


Infection

by 5557



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood, Canon, Claustrophobia Warning, Comedy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, Horror, Humor, Illnesses, Illustrated, Illustrations, Irresponsible use of lions, Keith is autistic, Lance is an idiot, Lance is probably autistic too, Lance learns how to not be awful, Lowkey catholicism, M/M, Mystery, Nightmares, Not the sickfic you asked for, Nudity, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Psychological Horror, Sick Lance, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Suffocation / drowning warning, Touch-Starved Keith, but the sickfic we all deserved, gratuitous mentions of Star Wars, gratuitous mentions of crabs, just sayin, klance, lance gets called on his bullshit, post crystal venom, suicide mention warning, would it be a horror story without blood?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5557/pseuds/5557
Summary: While exploring an alien planet, Lance is nearly killed by a mysterious monster. Now he's convinced that he is infected with an alien sickness. Why doesn't anyone believe him?It must be Keith's fault.This is that weird story with the tentacles your friend keeps telling you to read and I drew pictures.





	1. FEED

**Author's Note:**

> So I got a little prompt in the askbox on [my tumblr](http://autisticvoltronld.tumblr.com), and, since it was the first one, I got really excited and decided to go completely off the rails with it.
> 
> "Could you maybe write a sick Lance fic where he whines about not feeling well and nobody really believes him until it gets worse? Please and thank you!"
> 
> You were expecting a lil' hurt / comfort fic, my dude, my anon. You got so much more...
> 
>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on [tumblr.](http://autisticvoltronld.tumblr.com)

 

Lance didn't think much of getting separated from the others at first. The swamp planet they'd landed on reminded him of Dagobah from Star Wars, and he was caught up in his Luke Skywalker fantasy for at least half an hour before he realised that he could no longer hear anyone else's voice through the mossy underbrush. His radio was on the fritz from slipping and falling into some mud earlier, which, frankly, he was glad no one else saw. It was now only working in fuzz and patches.

Looking for a tiny escape pod in the dense swamp was going to be a nightmare. Especially when all the paladins had to go on was a descending trajectory and a heat signature. The entire swamp was a boiling, gassy mess of mud, water and tangled vines. From space, they traced the arc of descent as best they could and landed where the lions could remain on solid ground. Between the murky, sinking ground and the low-hanging vines, speeders were out of the question. The rest of the job was on foot.

Lance stopped and slowly turned about. The grayish-green swamp oozed and steamed around him, giving off odd, exotic scents and even weirder noises. He could hear bats or possibly birds flapping and screeching overhead, and the quiet, persistent scuttling from the tree-crabs slowly climbing up every trunk. The crabs freaked him out at first until he realised that they weren't doing any harm, and they were kinda cute when you picked one up and it waggled its little claws around helplessly. They did give him an awful sense of vertigo, though, for when he stood still and peered into the distance, all the tree-crabs slowly climbing higher and higher made it look as though he were sinking. Or the swamp was rising. Or both.

But back to business. Lost. Not lost- just... _on the lookout_. Just a matter of yelling into his muddy comm enough times to eventually get someone's attention. Besides, he could still feel the presence of Blue not too far off. Lance liked the comforting bond they shared, and the magical feeling of being connected to the giant semi-sentient ship.

“-ance? -ere tryi- t -ind you.”

A scratchy voice came through his speaker, and Lance identified it as Pidge.

“Yeah. Copy. Anyone? My comm is a bit broken. Do you hear me?” Lance shouted, his voice causing a couple of nearby bat-birds to take flight.

“We... -ound -ere the ship cra- -ou can co- … -ere?” Shiro's voice came through, just as garbled.

Lance internally cheered. Well, that solved that problem. Once again, Lance could dust his hands, claim credit for a job well done and do little-to-none of the work. He turned on his heel to climb back over a sunken stump and trudge his way off towards Pidge and Shiro and the rest of them.

Lance hoisted himself up onto the slimy root system, crushing a few unlucky tree crabs along the way. He regretted the crunching sound they made under his boot as he slung his leg up and tried to swing his weight over the edge. He looked down as their little broken bodies hit the swamp water and sighed with regret. Then he scooted forward and dropped his legs over the side of the tangled wall of roots, preparing to jump. That's when his foot got caught.

Lance overshot when his foot refused to come free and fell nearly headfirst to the other side of the dead root system. And he didn't fall cleanly. With his foot jammed above his head, he was now hanging, upside-down, his shoulder resting on the wet and soggy roots just barely poking out of the groundwater. Lance struggled and writhed and wormed his best acrobatics, but he could get a grip on the slippery dead wood, and his ankle remained solidly jammed in the deep V-cut overhead. He flung himself up a few more times for good measure, desperately grasping and clawing at whatever slimy twigs would break off in his hand. It was no use.

Lance lay, upside-down considering his options. He could die of embarassment, or he could swallow his pride and just ask for help. Lance waited another minute as his leg slowly started to go numb. Ok. Ask for help.

“Hey guys? Can you come get me? I'm stuck. My foot's caught in a jam.”

No response. Lance sighed. He guessed he probably _was_ less important than those refugees they set out to rescue. Then, not long after, another voice fuzzed through his broken comm.

“-ust -eave hi-”

“OH FUCK YOU, KEITH,” Lance shouted into his mic. The nerve of that guy. Keith was always so obsessed with being the hero and completing their missions. He'd rather abandon a fellow paladin to die a slow and painful death than bother helping out a team mate. Lance folded his arms, fury boiling within him as blood rushed to his head.

Great. No one was coming.

It wasn't too bad, hanging upside down in a rotting tree in an alien swamp. No sirree. Plenty of intertwining branches and vines to look up at overhead, plenty of tree crabs to crawl up your legs and keep you company and creepily fall on your face when they slip on your plastic armor. Yep. Peachy.

After countless minutes of sustained boredom, Lance noticed, as he looked up at his leg caught in the root-jam, that he had a small gash on the side of his leg. A tiny trickle of blood was now flowing slowly up his body, the dark red barely visible against his black undersuit. He wondered how long that had been there, or if it happened when he tripped.

Without any sunlight able to reach him, Lance couldn't tell how much time had passed since he'd fallen, and his leg had long since gone completely numb. He was starting to get a little dizzy, honestly. It was hard to pay attention to all the pointless vines around him. The edges of his vision were going black. Or maybe it was the mud on his visor. Or maybe it was the long, black slithering body emerging from the dark and tangled roots of the swamp with liquid motion and terrifying silence.

Lance's mind and body wanted to panic, but he could barely stay conscious. He tried keeping still, but the creature just kept emerging and getting longer and longer. It was black and snake-like, but it was as wide as a basketball and impossibly long and its blunt, rounded head had only a single, large eye. Unblinking, the eye stared at him. It swayed back and forth on the creature's neck, a hypnotic motion obviously meant to distract its prey. And then, peeling back from the eye were eight horrific tentacles forming an alien flower of Lance's death.

Lance screamed as loud as he could, and the creature tensed and shot into action. It wrapped itself tightly around him, constricting him, choking him, squeezing whatever air was still in him out. And worse, it was slowly bringing him closer. He couldn't fight the creature's sheer size and weight and muscular force while it brought him closer and closer to its horrifying eye-mouth.

Lance could feel the slime from the monster drip onto his skin and he could see into the hell-depths of that giant swamp-eye and this. This was how he died. This was the end.

Just let go. Just pass out. It'll all be over-

In a flash of red that was far too close to Lance for comfort, the creature's head fell cleanly off and tumbled down into the swampwater. Immediately after, its body spasmed violently and went limp, inch by inch collapsing all around Lance. The sudden loss of muscle control and the weight of the creature freed his foot from the ancient roots, but the body of the snake-creature was still wrapped around Lance, pushing him deep under the muddy water. Lance was splashing and choking and fighting to free himself from its tangled, ropey corpse. He couldn't see or hear anything except thundering water and air bubbles ringing in his ears in the muddy dark. He thrashed mightily and finally managed to escape the crushing, sinking weight of the monster's body. Lance gave one last, desperate push and broke the surface of the water.

Air. Precious air. And-

“Keith! Oh, way to go, dude! I bet you did that on purpose!”

Keith was knee-deep in the silty water beside Lance, panting and sweaty. His bayard deactivated itself in a bright flash. He steadied his feet in the mud and leaned over to offer Lance a hand.

“What? _Yeah,_ " said Keith, "I mean, I told Shiro we couldn't just _leave you there_ and wait for you to find us. So I tried to find you myself.”

Lance blinked, wiping the filth and mud from his visor before accepting Keith's help.

“Come on, Lance. We found the escape pod and from what I hear, the refugees are still alive. We should head back to our Lions now.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith. That guy always loved to just rub his superiority into him, didn't he? But Lance didn't say anything, and he followed behind in Keith's footsteps, his boots squelching with mud every step of the way.

 

* * *

 

Back at the castle, Lance was in his room and tearing off his muddy armor with mild disgust when he rediscovered the forgotten cut on his leg. It wasn't long and it wasn't deep, but of course dirt and debris had gotten into it on an alien planet. Lance initially considered just ignoring it, but after the terrifying encounter with the eyeball-snake and the tree crabs, he was pretty sure that he'd become infected with some horrible alien disease. And there would be slime involved. And he'd turn into a brain-eating zombie. Lance had seen the horror movies. He knew what was coming.

Lance put on a T-shirt and some sweatpants and made his way down to medical bay.

Coran nodded in agreement. “I see, Lance. I'll set you up to take a quick nap in the healing pod, just to make sure you don't have any infections from the cut. Wouldn't want one of the greatest warriors in the universe dying of a fever!”

“Or becoming a zombie!” Lance added.

“That too, I guess,” Coran shrugged.

Coran pressed a few buttons on the command pad and the healing pod hissed and opened. Lance stripped his clothes down to his boxer shorts and climbed in. He heard the familiar suction noise as the pod closed fully and then, after a moment, nothing. He was unconscious.

When he awoke, Lance felt a bit queasy, like he typically did coming out of the pod. Something about going from floating stasis back to gravity and light and air was highly disorienting. He stepped out of the pod, his legs a bit jelly as always, and went to go pick up his folded clothes nearby.

“Yo Coran, how long was I out?”

Coran waved the air casually, “Not more than four hours, lad. Yer as healthy as a zarlac!”

Lance lightly brushed his fingertips over his leg where the wound used to be. Gone. He was safe. No brain-eating for Lance McClane. Lance breathed a small sigh of relief and pulled his shirt over his head.

At dinner, Keith was enthusiastically telling the rest of the team about the sheer size of the monster that had nearly swallowed Lance whole. Lance's face flushed red and he shoved his mouth full of food goo. It was embarrassing to hear Keith talk in great detail about finding Lance dangling upside-down in the swamp, covered in mud and about to die before Keith _bravely_ chopped its head off. The food goo made Lance's mouth go incredibly dry, and he choked it down.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Keith. Ha- _ha_ , near-death experience for Lance. Keith's an awesome hero. Great job for you.”

Keith's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

“You're welcome, Lance.”

Ugh. Fuck that guy.

 

* * *

 

That night, Lance dreamed that he was back in the swamp. The water was higher, up around his thighs, and strangely hot. The trees were bigger, denser, looming overhead and the tree crabs were swarming all around him. A dense fog permeated the area, preventing him from seeing very far in any direction. The trees and vines twisted and blurred into a strangely giant cage surrounding him.

Lance looked around. He didn't understand his purpose for being there, and he felt a sudden surge of fear. He reached for his bayard, but it wouldn't respond to his need. Lance's panic rose.

He tried walking, sloshing through the thigh-deep water that was dark and completely opaque. Lance had no idea what footing he was standing on, and he didn't want to have to think about it. He walked forward and as his body parted the water around him, the splash echoed deafeningly loud all around the swamp. Lance froze in terror. He could feel himself being watched.

Lance spun around. Nothing was behind him. He turned back again. Now he couldn't tell which was was forward and which was the way he came. All the trees looked the same. All the crabs were incessantly crawling. Climbing. migrating up into the thick canopy overhead. What were they escaping?

Lance turned one last time, surveying the very edges of the swamp. He stopped short and ice filled his veins.  
  
The creature was now in front of him. Behind him. All around him.

It was in the water, slithering and slipping and impossibly long, dragging its body up from deep under the mire. It reared itself up and turned its giant eye on him, staring at Lance's pathetic, scared, muddy body.

Lance tried to swallow but found that he couldn't. He tried to scream, but his mouth was sewn shut. He was scraping and clawing at his face to open up his mouth. He felt suffocated and scared. But more than being terrified, he was hungry.

“Feed.”

The creature whispered to him, though from what mouth, Lance could not say.

“Feed.”

He heard it all around him, inside his mind.

"Feed."

Lance felt helpless to obey. He reached into the murky brown waters and his hand touched a tree-crab. He brought its wet and snapping body up, out of the water, closer to his face as the snake-creature slowly coiled itself around Lance.

“Feed.”

The creature was starting to constrict now. Lance was choking. He couldn't eat the crab even though his brain told him to. His arms and hands and mouth no longer worked, and the snake creature was angry. It tightened its constriction around him. lance was blacking out again.

“FEED.”

Lance awoke in his bed, gasping and sweating, the sheets spiraled around his body, and wrapped around his neck. He wrestled with the blankets and threw them off. He sat up in bed and shivered, feeling the single bead of sweat slowly run down the centre of his back. His fingers felt at the ghost of the cut on his leg from the swamp. Fully healed, without even a scar.

He didn't feel hungry at all.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't the first night's dinner, or the second, or even the third that Lance noticed that he was starting to lose his appetite, even slightly. If something wasn't right, Lance just shrugged it off. Goo was goo. It was always gross. It was always bland. It's not like he had the luxury of a burger or a pizza pretzel out here in space. Fuck. He'd trade Blue for a cinnamon roll right now. Sorry, Blue.

Aside from the occasional flashback to the swamp nightmare, Lance was fine. He maintained his daily skincare regimen; he maintained his weekly Pidge-bothering regimen. And he and the team were plowing through their missions with no contest.

Over the next few weeks they had no planned strikes again the Galra empire, so in preparation, it was back to an intense training schedule. Allura had been pushing them hard before, but the last round of skirmishes the Empire, while victorious, were proof that the team had no real room for error. They all had to work as one.

Each day she sent them to the training room to work on combat strategy and technique. Or out in the lions for patrol and piloting formation. Sometimes they landed on a planet and explored the different extreme environments and heavy gravity. Sometimes Allura shut the gravity off in the training room and told them to figure it out for themselves.

The days of heavy training were taking their toll on the entire team, but Lance was starting to feel like he was kinda taking the brunt of it. Early mornings, intense phsyical demands and no rest days meant that his body had little time to recover from each session. He tried to eat. He _really_ did. But that nightmare was always present in the back of his mind; the gross wriggling crabs startlingly visible when he closed his eyes and imagined. But the days wore on, and Lance, though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he _was_ falling behind.

One morning in the training room, Lance was facing off with Shiro and Pidge against three combat bots armed with swords. He was struggling just to stay alert, his mind half-asleep and full of fuzz. Pidge was crouched and ready. Shiro lept to the side to tackle one and disarm it, grabbing its weapon for himself. Pidge shot her grapple at the far left and managed to trip the middle. Lance... Lance just stood there.

“Lance! Get moving! Take them out!” Pidge grunted as the downed bot yanked on her grapple cord.

Oh yeah! Right! Heroism! Lance shook off the fuzz, activated his bayard and fired at the tripped bot. Pidge whipped back her grapple and helped Shiro double-team the third. Lance caught up and fired a bolt of plasma straight into its chest.

He was working up a sweat. Getting his head in the game.

He went two more rounds with Shiro and Pidge, but already his reaction time was getting sluggish. His gun was getting heavy. His vision wasn't focusing properly. He nearly clipped Pidge's shoulder with cover fire.

“Lance! Watch it, Mr. Hero!”

"Sorry," Lance said, trying to tighten his grip on his riffle.

Pidge had to duck and roll to avoid Lance's sloppy shots.

“Um, hello? I'm not the enemy here, Lance! What's _wrong_ with you?”

Lance let his bayard drop and it deactivated. His arms were surprisingly weak after only three rounds. His brow was dripping with sweat.

“Is something wrong?” asked Shiro, concern on his face.

“I think I'm just... having an off day,”said Lance.

To be honest, Lance couldn't quite figure out what was wrong. He'd been having off days for several days now, but the slight funk he constantly felt just wasn't enough to warrant paying attention to. Maybe he was just getting sick.

Well, there was a solution to that...

 

* * *

 

“Yo, Coran!”

“ _Yo_ to you, Lance.” Coran waved from the lounge, sipping his tea.

Lance dragged his body into the lounge, leaning on the doorframe and trying not to look too tired and sore.

“Yeah, I think I wanna go back in the pod, man. I think it missed something. I'm just not feelin' all that hot.”

Coran paused for a moment, then shrugged. “If you say so, lad. I read your summary chart when you got out last time. Said you were fine. But we can do another pop just to make sure.”

Lance felt a wave of relief as Coran put down his tea and got up to go with him to medical bay.  
  
Barely an hour later, Lance got out of the pod feeling much the same as before. He was less sore, so at the very least his muscles must have been healed. But his was still feeling a slight fog of lethargy and sluggishness. Maybe he was a little hungry now? That must have meant something. His appetite was back and he'd eat and he'd be fine now. No more problems. None.

That night, the swamp creature returned to Lance's dreams; its eye boring into him in its hypnotic stare. It whispered to him again, its ominous tone hovering in his mind.

“Feed.”

 

* * *

 

More than anything else these days, the quiet nausea, the exhaustion and crankiness, Lance felt the _hunger_ setting in. He'd gained back his appetite, that was for certain. Every day, Lance was eating and eating and when he went to bed he perpetually craved more food. His stomach rumbled when he climbed under the sheets. Lance tried to ignore it, rolling over, squeezing his eyes shut.

His reaction time was slightly better, but he now had to ignore the constant pangs of hunger his body would send to him whenever he made even the smallest psychical exertion. Forming Voltron took all of his concentration, and after a battle, Lance was always famished. He'd stumble into the kitchen and collapse onto the floor with a bowl of food- fork optional. Even Hunk looked at him with a bit of pity, but Lance noted, with private thanks, that he shrugged it off and just let Lance do his thing.

Nowadays, Lance found that his stomach constantly had a rolling, lurching feeling in it. As if every move he made caused him unnecessary existential dread. And for a confident and plucky and handsome hero like Lance, that was just impossible! This was getting a bit out of hand, but no one _really_ commented on it if he just kept the effort up, pushed through the sweat and supported his team-mates. He had his off-days, but, hey, maybe he was getting better?

“Feed.”

What did it _want?_

“FEED.”

Lance couldn't ignore the nightmare. He couldn't ignore the constant hunger he felt, and the panic slowly growing within him, day by day. He didn't want to say anything, but he was starting to get worried. The hunger gnawed at him, but moreso, the fear of what it meant: What if the hunger never let up? What if this was the beginning of something... something much worse?

 _He was becoming a zombie_.

First food goo, then his team mates. No other explanation.

It all made perfect sense to Lance. He would eat ravenously, and the food would just go nowhere. It was never enough. It was _never_ enough. He worked out, but his body was slow and dull and his brain was full of cotton. Surely this wasn't just a space-cold or training exhaustion.

Lance tried ignoring what was going on with his body. He tried forcing himself to keep up with the others, but inside he knew something was happening. And he was hungry. Always _so hungry_.

“You're a growing boy,” cooed Allura, at dinner one night, “Eat some more protein.”

Lance just couldn't bring himself to tell her that he was worried his hunger would never go away at all.

At least he had the excuse to eat his feelings.

 

* * *

 

When Lance started complaining in his Blue Lion, Shiro started to get annoyed. He told him to eat before they left next time or pack a snack, but Shiro didn't understand. Lance was pushing as hard as he could. Saving the innocent people of entire planets and fighting evil armies took a lot out of him and, god damnit, _he was going to eat his own arm if this mission didn't end quickly_. Shiro told him to take better care of himself and go to medical bay if he was feeling sick. Lance tried even harder to keep his hunger to himself.

As the weeks wore on, Lance felt like he was slowly starting to lose his mind. Poison. It must have posioned him. Cancer? _Hypnosis_? Why was he suffering? Why didn't anyone notice or care?

Was he just... making it all up in his head?

He couldn't be. Lance felt like he was losing weight, but every time he snuck into medical bay and stepped on the scale, the marker read the same. He'd even gained a pound, which never happened on his skinny body. Skinny. Lance looked down and rubbed his hand over his abdomen. Flat. Lance flexed his shirtless biceps in the distorted reflection of the med pod. Noodles. Barely even a visible lump of muscle. Not like Keith. Keith's developing muscles rippled with promise every time he stepped into the training room. he was getting stronger every day while Lance was falling more and more behind. Fucking _Keith._

But how could Lance even compete with Keith? He felt so tired and hungry _all the time_. Everyone just called him lazy or a whiner and frankly, Lance was starting to feel incredibly hurt.

Was he so unhelpful all the time that they couldn't notice when he was _really_ sick? Was he _that_ useless to the team that they didn't know the difference when he was helping or not? He kept trying to tell everyone that he was not ok and they just... patted him on the back and casually told him to feel better. It was infuriating. _Was he just the Lance who cried wolf one too many times?_

Lance's stomach was grumbling again. He put on his clothes and ignored the rush of nausea that now accompanied him everywhere when he lifted his arms above his head, and made his way down to the kitchen to get himself some goo. The dizziness was a little worse than usual. Lance blamed Keith's stupid muscles.

He'd made it down the hallway, he was in the common room, but the dizziness was getting the upper hand. He was almost at the kitchen and he could get some food. Just a few more steps. He just needed a wall or something to lean against. Oh, whoa, the floor was... really close-

“Watch it!” said Keith as he caught Lance in his arms, gently lowering him to the ground. “Hey. I hear you're really not feeling well lately.”

“I am not weak, Keith!” spat Lance, while at the same time he couldn't find the strength to push himself out of Keith's arms. The nerve of that guy.

"Do you want me to bring you some food?"

Lance was annoyed now, and annoyed was at least better than the constant self-pity he'd been wallowing in for two months. Annoyed was good. Annoyed gave him something to focus on.

"No, Keith, I'm not a baby. I don't need your help and I'll get it myself. Just... gimme a sec."

 

* * *

 

Nobody understood. Nobody cared. Nobody could see it.

Lance was dying. He was was dying of zombie cancer, and no one would believe him until it was too late.

It was all that eyeball-snake's fault.

The next morning, Lance was trapped in his own bed. He was shivering, sweating heavily and he knew he needed to vomit, but he couldn't make his brain move his body. _Get up_ , he told himself. _Get up. Move. You're gonna horf_.

Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe it would pass if he just stayed still long enough. Maybe he could just go back to sleep until his stomach settled. Lance tried to take a deep breath.

Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen. Lance managed to lean over the side of the bed before he let loose. At least he felt marginally better when it was all over. Lance opened his eyes and looked down at the mess. Something wasn't right. It really, really wasn't right. Lance looked more closely at the vomit and froze in horror. Those were specks of blood in it. Something _really_ wasn't right.

He needed everyone to see that he wasn't well, and this. This was finally proof. Lance leaned out from his bed and grabbed his helmet off of the bedside table. He placed it on his head and flipped the comm on to connect to the castle's systems.

“Guys, I need you to get in here. Please. It's an emergency.”

Not a few minutes later everyone was crowded in Lance's room and everyone was mildly disgusted by what they saw.

“Aw, Lance, ugh!”

“Gross, dude!”

“You can be proud of it, but you don't have to SHOW US.”

Lance tried to calm everyone down, but he was just feeling so dizzy, his words weren't forming well in his head. He had to tell them before it was too late. He looked over at his friends who were waiting for him to speak, silently trying to determine who would be the most delicious if it came down to it. Lance decided on Hunk. He was meaty.

"Why did you bring us in here," asked Allura, snapping Lance out of his dark fantasy. Lance cleared his throat, trying to make his words sound important.

“You guys, I'm sick. Please. I've been feeling like crap for two months now. It's why I've been slacking in training, and I'm not as good of a shot in my lion anymore.”

“Oh really? I hadn't noticed much-”

“Can it, Pidge.” Shiro gave Pidge _The Look_ , and Pidge let the easy jab go.

“Guys, I'm... I think I have zombie cancer.”

Everyone stared at Lance.

“No, Listen," Lance started again, "Ever since we got back from the swamp planet, I have been feeling like utter crap. I've TOLD you all, but you just think I'm a lazy shit. I'm not! Maybe I try to duck out of work sometimes, but this is real! I'm hungry all the time and I have- I have these awful dreams that are telling me to eat. And I'm just hungry. I'm so fucking hungry _all the time_. I'm honestly scared. I don't want to hurt you guys.”

Lance looked around at the varied states of concern and disbelief on their faces.

"Look! There is BLOOD in my puke!" Lance gestured to the mess on the floor in front of his bed emphatically.

Coran sniffed. Hunk raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, I'm not gonna get any closer, but that red looks like the berry dessert we had last night. Maybe you just got some food poisoning?"

Fuck. Was no one on this ship sane except him!?

“Fine. Nobody believe me. If I die, it'll be all your fault," grumbled Lance, "And If I'm becoming a zombie, I'm gonna go bite Keith first!”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Why, so we can both be zombies together?”

Lance refused to answer. He simply glared at Keith.

“Alright. That sounds cool, I guess.”

Fuck that guy. Not taking him seriously at all.

 

* * *

 

[Look at this lovely illustration](http://absolem0.tumblr.com/post/153786769274/sick-small-fanart-for-lovely-yes) by the talented and amazing [Absolem0](http://absolem0.tumblr.com/)~!!! 

 


	2. SLEEP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

Ok. Ok. Maybe he was going a little bit overboard.

Lance wiped his chin and stared at it, ignoring the awful smell of bile on his hands and the sinking feeling in his stomach that was definitely not related to his illness. Raspberries. Or whatever their space equivalent was.

Fuck.

He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking his eyes and steadying his head from the nausea. He looked over at his friends, who were obviously conflicted but wanting to support him; waiting for him to say something.

Lance looked over at Coran.

“I wanna go back in the pod.”

Coran silently nodded, seeing the determination in Lance's gaze, then added, “I'll see you down in medical in a bit,” and left.

Seeing the break from the group, Hunk went over to the bed and sat down beside Lance, careful to avoid his mess. He gently placed his hand on Lance's shoulder.

“Hey dude, I can help you mop up. Everybody gets sick sometimes.” He patted Lance on the arm reassuringly.

Inwardly, Lance could only think, _Yeah, but not this kind of sick_.

Keith and Pidge were sent to find a bucket and mop, and Allura tried her best to comfort Lance by telling him that he would not be left behind. It sounded a little shallow, though, and when she and Shiro left the room, Lance could hear them speaking to each other out in the hall about Zarkon's plans for attack while Lance was ill.

Great. Now he was sick _and_ a burden to the team.

 

* * *

 

Lance got into the pod and made Coran promise to keep him in there for no less than 12 hours. He no longer cared about 10,000-year-old manufacturer's warranties or “overdoing it”. Lance just wanted this to be over and done with. Once and for all.

It was night time when Lance got out. Well, it was always night time in space, but it was sleeping hours.

Lance's vision was still coming back into focus as he pulled on his bath robe over his sweat pants, and he could see shadows dancing in every corner of the room from the flickering glow of the various buttons and dials on the control panel. Minimal lights were left on for him, and the room had a dark and claustrophobic atmosphere without lighting; or people. Coran had left and gone to bed and Lance was alone in the medical room. Maybe he should have rethought the whole “12 hours” thing.

His stomach churned and Lance was, as _always_ , starving.

There was an echoing thud as Lance's knees slammed onto the hard castle floor and another as his fists pounded it. Lance was furious. With the world and with the pod and with himself. This was supposed to be over. He needed it to be over. He didn't want to have to seriously think about dying. Not at 19. He was supposed to be old and married and have lots and lots of grandkids by the time he could even start _thinking_ about dying.

And now he was alone and scared with no answers. And his knees hurt.

Lance appreciated the fact that no one was available to watch him wallow in his own self-pity. As much as he loved to play up the histrionics for attention when he stubbed his toe or had a paper cut, Lance felt deeply uncomfortable accepting the idea of true weakness and vulnerability. He couldn't die. He wasn't ready to die. 

 _Just get up, Lance. Just go to the kitchen and feed yourself_.

Lance McClane was nothing if not an optimist. He may be dying. He may be turning into a zombie. But god damn it, he wasn't either of those things _yet_.

Lance dragged himself to his feet with the will of a lion. Slowly. And the dizziness passed. And the metallic taste of fainting faded from his mouth and nostrils.

He stood alone in the cool, dark medical room and flipped the bird at the healing pod for good measure. He left the medical bay with a long sigh and went to get something to eat from the kitchen before heading off to bed.

The halls were empty and dark, save for where Lance was walking. They had a pressure-based activation that lit only a small pool where one was currently standing. Hunk called it the fairy lights effect. He said it made him feel like a god. _Fuck_ , Lance remembered with a twinge of guilt. _He couldn't eat Hunk!_ Hunk was too good to die. Nah, when the time came, he'd eat Pidge instead.

He was doing better with every step. He was alive. He had all his limbs. He had his friends. His family was safe back home. If he wasn't dead yet, maybe he could pull through.

The castle was usually colder at night, and tonight was no different. A chill draft came blowing down the corridor in front of Lance. And as the air hit Lance's ears, he heard it. The whisper.

“Sleep.”

Adrenaline shot through him and Lance whirled around, looking for the source. Doing so made the lights around him dance on and off as they tried to predict his destination and that only served to disorient him more.

His eyes couldn't adjust to the lights blinking on and off and the flickering was doing something to his head.

“Sleep.”

Above him?

Lance looked up, and though the corridor was tall, he could see the vaulted ceiling clearly overhead. Nothing. Shadows and nothing.

“Coran? _Shiro?"_ Lance spoke, cautiously, "... Sendak, you'd better not still be in the fuckin' air vents, I SWEAR to god!”

His voice was tight and raised an entire octave, quivering in fear. Even the bead of sweat that ran down the back of his neck caused him a wave of shock. Instinct told him to flee. Lance took off at a run down the hall.

“Sleep”

Lance was panting and skidding, not knowing where to turn. He forgot about the kitchen and kept on running.

“Sleep”

It was following him. It was everywhere. It was the snake monster, and it had found him in his own world.

“SLEEP”

Wow, the floor was... rising up... really fast.

 

* * *

 

He was back in the swamp. The same silty, dark bath-warm water all around him. And Lance could swear it was getting higher on his legs. It was foggier, too. And not nearly as densely wooded. There were still gnarled trees and hanging moss joined together by twisting vines, but they weren't crowding each other like before. It didn't matter, anyway. The thick, swirling mist wouldn't let him see more than twenty feet in front of him.

Where was the monster?

Lance knew what was coming. It was always the same. He was in the swamp, and the snake-worm would emerge and wrap him up and choke him and then he'd wake up. He was ready. He'd just live it out and get it over with. The sooner he died, the sooner he'd wake up.

So... where was it?

 _All right, monster,_ thought Lance. He had a date in hell and the devil was late.

Lance noticed his anger. The hot pressure in his clenched fists and just behind his eyes. He was scared, yes. But more than that, he was angry. Angry at the utter loss of control over his own life and his own choices. He wasn't brave, but he _was_ angry.

“Sleep,” the voice whispered.

“No.” It was the first time Lance had spoken in his dream. His voice carried unnaturally far, echoing back and forth throughout the swamp. And after that, silence; save for the tiny rippling splashes against his legs when he moved in the water.

He moved.

Realisation hit him. He wasn't paralyzed. He wasn't trapped by the tentacles.

“Sleep.”

“No! No! Fuck you!”

Lance picked up one leg, trying to balance in the thigh-high water, his brain not able to register what ground he might be standing on. And he placed one foot forward. And then another.

And Lance was running and splashing, and he could see in the corner of his eyes the tendrils, the loops of that single, long, endlessly long ropy body rising up. Sometimes in front of him, sometimes beside him, trying to trip him or snare him, but Lance vaulted over the creature, splashing down and continuing onward.

The water was getting shallower, but the mist was getting thicker. The swamp was knee deep. The ground below was hard. The fog was choking him. He could hear the whispers of the snake-worm behind him, feel its eye upon him and he ran. Lance ran like he'd never run for his life before.

There were no trees now. Lance was completely surrounded by mist and running blind. He was running. He was getting away from the monster if it meant running forever.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, look! He's running in his sleep! He reminds me of my dog back home!”

Lance faded into consciousness hearing Pidge somewhere nearby. The ground was cold and hard and definitely not his bed. It dawned on him that he was lying on the castle floor. He was covered in a blanket, but there was something lumpy... a Jacket? Folded under his head. It smelled like Keith.

Lance opened his eyes and a bowl of food goo was placed near him on the floor. Food. He reached his numb, slept-on arm out and only managed to smack the bowl around a bit.

“Hey, he's awake! I think...” Hunk got up from the lounge and came into the hallway where Lance was sleeping.

“Hey dude. You ok? Keith found you like that this morning when he went to go train. I brought you a blanket and some food.”

“Why didn't you guys put me in bed?” asked Lance, while scarfing down the cold bowl of goo that had developed a thick, dried skin over it.

“Well, since you've been freaking out so much lately, we all just wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you were ok. Plus, well, you were kinda cute.”

Ugh. Fuck Hunk. Lance slurped more goo, _but with derision_.

“Oh, good. You're awake. Can I have my jacket back now?” Lance jumped in surprise at the second voice. Keith had suddenly appeared behind him in the hallway, freshly showered, his hair still damp.

“Keith, why didn't you bring me an _actual_ pillow?”

Keith shrugged. “Too far away. Didn't wanna backtrack.”

Lance made a note to self. Eat Hunk AND Keith. But with a full belly, Lance had a plan now, and he had to go find Shiro and Allura to tell them.

Lance got up and staggered a bit, his body incredibly sore and cold from sleeping on the hard floor all night long. He forced all his will into steadying himself. And then set off to find the leaders of the paladins.

 

* * *

 

He was going to disobey the snake monster. He'd done it in his dreams. He'd gotten away for once. This must have been a sign of success. Maybe he had a chance to beat this thing after all. He was ready and he was about to barge right into the control room where Shiro and Allure were, but he heard both their voices speaking low and conspiratory near the main console. Lance stayed behind the open door frame and listened instead.

“Honestly Shiro, I want him to get well, but we are vulnerable with Lance the way he is. If Zarkon detects even a _hint_ of weakness, he will attack us full-force.”

Allura was combing through the map of distress beacons with her hands, worriedly.

“The only reason he stays at bay is because he assumes that we are at full fighting power. We need to launch a small offensive to keep up appearances until Lance has recovered.”

Shiro paused before asking, “And if he doesn't?”

“Then we will discuss the matter of searching for a new pilot.” she added gravely.

No.

No, there was no way. No way he could lose everything like that. Lance McClane was a hero, and though he had maybe entertained the fantasy once or twice of everyone around him gathered and sobbing about his pale and handsome corpse in an impressive casket, he had never thought he would just be dumped off the team for being useless. His stomach was roiling. He wanted to puke.

Lance took off and ran, ignoring the dizziness and the complaints in his joints. Down the hall, down the stairs and through the main antechamber. There in the hangar, he saw Blue waiting for him in all her glory.

Tears welled up in Lance's eyes as he caught his breath. The lion rumbled a deep, metallic greeting to him, and Lance was hit with the weight of emotion. He burst into tears and collapsed on Blue's front paw, letting the droplets of tears and snot run down his chin and hit the sturdy cobalt of his bonded ship.

“I don't _wanna_ lose you, Blue. I _need_ to be good enough! I- I need to just be better. I'll fight as hard as I can! I promise. I'm not gonna be a zombie! I won't even bite Hunk! Just... _I don't want to die._ ”

Blue let out another rumble that vibrated to the hangar floor, and throughout Lance's body. She lowered her head slightly in acknowledgment.

Lance stayed and cried with Blue until he knew it was getting close to dinner time. And he was hungry. Always hungry.

 

* * *

 

Lance marched into the dining room with solid determination. His footsteps were steady and his face was clear after splashing some water on it. He sat down calmly but very intentionally at the table and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement to make.”

Everyone turned their attention to him.

“I've decided," said Lance, "Not to be sick.”

Keith blinked, “But you just said you were dying of zombie cancer like two days ago. And you've been complaining that you're sick for months now.”

Lance pasted a cocky grin on his face, “Ah, but that was the OLD Lance! You see, I've _decided_ not to be sick. I just simply refuse! Mind over matter. If I say I'm good, then I will be good!”

“That doesn't sound logical,” said Pidge.

“Well then, if you're feeling better, thankfully, then we can get back to our mission at hand,” announced Allura, and Lance could tell that a certain tension was relieved in her voice. He decided not to tell them that he'd overheard her and Shiro talking. She was already carrying the burden of the universe on her own shoulders. The least he could do was be a leg and support his team.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, miraculously, this was starting to work. Lance hauled himself out of bed every morning, ate double-helpings of food, trained as hard as he could and starting whispering “Fuck you, I don't need to sleep” when he thought no one else could hear.

Lance had also discovered a new superpower: coffee.

When he could hear the dark whisperings slithering up from the back of his mind; when he could reasonably predict the snake monster coming to get him, Lance made a bee-line immediately to the kitchen and downed the strongest cup of Altean espresso his could find. And it worked. Somewhat.

He took light naps during the day and never really slept all the way through the night. Lance had turned the heat in his room up to maximum and slept naked with no blankets to relieve the choking sensation he felt when he dreamed. But still, always, there was the ever-present fear that the snake-monster was there. Just out of sight. Watching and waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Allura launched them in an all-out assault on a heavily guarded supply line to a mining planet. Like the Balmera, Lance was met with a landscape of deep gaping chasms from strip-mining and the sickly orange atmosphere of smoke and pollution.

Blue seemed to know that Lance was struggling, and Lance could feel the ship take a more suggestive approach under his hand. When his reaction time slowed, Blue took over and acted of her own accord, firing the ice cannon and accelerating without Lance's command.

They were able to take out the primary defenses, but they'd have to form Voltron to destroy the space elevator that was transporting all the ore to the cargo ships.

Blue and Lance flew with practiced ease into formation and began the shifting sequence. Shiro guided them all and once again, they had formed the universe's most powerful weapon.

Lance was ready. The team was revved up, aiming a dash at the base of the space elevator. Keith activated the sword, ready on Shiro's command. Lance was prepared, he was-

“...sleep”

“NO!” The visceral scream cut across everyone's comm.

“Lance, what was that?” Shiro yelled, while Hunk jammed his leg down to stop the run. “What's happening?”

“I can't!" Lance screeched, "Not now!”

“Lance, we have to attack!" shouted Shiro, "We're sitting ducks if we stay here! Go!”

Lance could feel the nausea rising again. He was fighting it. His furiously shook his head. He was staying awake. They needed to attack. Lance leaned forward, gunning the engines. A cloud of dust and debris whipped past him, turning everything greyish white. He was moving faster and faster. Lance felt his control on his ship slipping. He tried to brake, but the controls refused to respond. He was hurtling out of control.

Flying.

Falling.

Wet.

He was back in the swamp again.

“SLEEP”

The voice was screaming at him, in a high, hoarse whisper. It was ringing throughout the swamp, and Lance could feel the word penetrate him to his core.

 

* * *

 

“What's wrong with Lance?”

“Lance, can you copy?”

“His head is tilted forward in his lion! I can't see his face on my screen!”

“GUYS, SHUT UP!” Screamed Pidge.

The rest of them went silent, and they could hear a low buzzing sound.

“Is that... snoring?”

And Voltron started to skew dangerously to one side.

 

* * *

 

Before he could even think of running, the tendrils whipped out of the water, churning and splashing, grasping and grabbing at him with no chance to escape. They were around his legs and waist. They were lifting him up, rolling him from side to side...

 

* * *

  
“LANCE IS ASLEEP!” Keith growled in exasperation, “I REPEAT, VOLTRON'S RIGHT LEG HAS FALLEN ASLEEP.”

The robot was teetering dangerously on the brink of collapse.

Hunk battled the controls, desperately trying to compensate for the fact that Lance was dead in the cockpit and no one was able to control Blue. Everyone was yelling. Shiro was frantically looking for some button or switch on his console that would let him take over, or at the very least put blue on autopilot.

“HAVE YOU TRIED SHAKING IT?" Screamed Pidge, "SHAKE THE LEG, SHIRO, WE NEED TO WAKE LANCE UP.”

“I CAN'T CONTROL THE LEG," Shiro shouted back, " _IT'S ASLEEP!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Now the snake held him delicately in its grasp. The ropes of its body were tender and slithered over him, layers of the snake-worm holding him, rocking him side-to-side like a baby. Lance was quickly becoming uncomfortable with how very comfortable he was.  
  
“Sleep” it whispered. Softly, warmly.

“Sleep.”

A length of its body rose up and brushed the side of his face with its wet skin, and Lance could feel its soft, slimy, leathery body and the powerful muscles beneath.

Uh oh

Was this... Was this gonna be like a weird sex-thing?

“Sleep,” it whispered.

Oh no.

 

* * *

 

“LANCE, WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” Shiro was shouting into his comm, and Lance could feel rumbling explosions shake him in his seat. Alarms were blaring and visual warnings were everywhere on his dash.

The Galra had enough time to summon reinforcements while Lance was unconscious, and dozens of sentry drones were flying about, shooting at Voltron.

“I'm back! I'm here! Let's do this!” Lance muscled the controls and launched Voltron forward. He and hunk and Shiro flew at lightning speed, brandishing the giant sword and swinging at the base chain of the space elevator.

With a single slash, the trunk was severed, and the chain started floating upward, raw ore spilling down from several kilometers above them.

The lions separated and took out the drones with heavy support fire from the castle. Allura opened up a wormhole and they fled through it, not wanting to stay for any longer than they needed to.

 

* * *

 

“Lance, _what was that?_ ” Shiro was clearly irritated, but trying to suppress the growl of his voice into something manageable and calm.

Lance was sheepish and defeated. His comm clicked on and off several times before he could put together a real answer.

“I'm sick, Shiro."

And then, in a quieter voice...

"I'm really sorry.”

 

* * *

  
  
Lance was crying. Exhausted and frustrated and desperate. He pounded on the door of the healing pod in medical bay, still in his space suit, having ripped his helmet off straight away and blown past everyone in the hangar trying to ask him what the hell happened on that planet.

Just what he needed. Another accident to prove that he was useless and weak and worth getting rid of.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” He slammed his fist on the clear polymer door, “Why can't you see that I'm sick?”  
  
Allura and Coran stood silently in the doorway.

“Coran, I wanna go back in the pod. It has to find what's wrong with me. It HAS to. _I don't wanna die!_ ”

Coran came over and gently put his hand on Lance's shoulder. He stayed there for a long time and chose his words carefully before he spoke.

“Now, lad. I'm not saying I don't believe you. If you say you're sick, you're sick. We all believe you. What I'd trying to say is...” Coran struggled and ran his fingers through his mustache, “If the pod hasn't found anything wrong in the past, would it really find something now?”

Lance sobbed quietly.

“I just don't want you to be disappointed from false hope. No machine or person is perfect. I'm sure whatever's wrong, you have it inside of you to overcome it... I really hope so.”

Inside of him.

“I have to go back, Coran. Allura, I need a wormhole. I have to go back!” Lance was suddenly frantically excited.

“To the mining planet? That's suicide.” Allura was ready to block the doorway with her own body to prevent Lance from leaving.

“No! The swamp planet where we rescued those refugees! That's where it started, I know it!”

“What are you looking for?”

“I don't know! A clue! An explanation! Something!”

Allura opened her mouth

“I JUST HAVE TO GO BACK, OK!?”

Lance must have looked deranged to them both. Allura was clearly angry, but she allowed Lance to pass out of medical bay and stomp his way determinedly back down to the hangar.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Oh, great. Keith.

“I'm going back to the Dagobah planet we were on a couple months ago.”

“What's a dagob-”

“GO FUCKING WATCH STAR WARS, KEITH.”

Keith grabbed him by the arm, and Lance swayed on the spot from the sudden imbalance. He stiffened up and tried not to let Keith see how clammy and pale he was. He stared Keith in the eye, sizing him up. His next words were firm and determined.

“I need to go back and find out why I'm sick.”

“You just said you weren-”

“OH MY GOD I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.”

Keith shrugged, his face consistently blank, and always so unreadable. What was he looking at Lance like that for. Was that pity? Did Keith feel BAD for him?

Keith closed his eyes and nodded. “Then I'm going with you,” he added, matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“Well I did save you, last time. And you passed out in your lion today.”

Lance couldn't stand there all day and argue.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a question for readers: Is the humour coming across? I know I stuck a bunch of gags and jokes in there, but if they come across as completely flat I might write the ending as just pure suspense genre. 
> 
> Also, at some point, I should really learn how to write scene transitions, lol.


	3. DREAM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagobah 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

“So, after Luke's fighter crashes and he can't get it started, Luke realizes that he's about to be crushed by the AT-AT in the snow-”

“Those are the ones you said were like our Lions?” asked Keith.

“Yes," said Lance, "But they can't fly. Anyway- You would think that he'd give up at that point, right? He's cold. He's scared. He's outmatched! But no. He shoots a grapple cord out and latches himself to the bottom of the AT-AT! And he winds himself up and uses his lightsabre to just start slashing at it underneath, right where it's weak! He brings down an entire ship all by himself!"

Lance couldn't help himself. He was getting more and more excited the more he explained the plot of Star Wars over his shoulder to Keith who was strapped into the fold-out passenger seat of the Blue Lion right behind him.

"I still like Han Solo better," said Keith, but his voice did sound mildly impressed.

Lance frowned in disagreement, but kept his eyes on the controls of his ship.

"You're wrong, Keith. _However,_ " Lance continued on, "Just bringing one ship down isn't enough. The Empire has shot out the rebel shield generators! They're no longer protected from the Star Destroyers up in space!"

" _Han_ would have been able to shoot all the AT-ATs..." Keith mumbled.

"Keith! _Shush!_ " Lance spat over his shoulder while begining their descent down towards the murky swamp planet, "You asked me to explain Star Wars to you! I'm telling you what happens!"

Keith folded his arms in a huff. "Fine. _Go._ " 

"So they're losing the base and the battle of Hoth and everyone has to escape, and Luke goes in his X-wing fighter to find Yoda on Dagobah-”

“That's where Ben's ghost told him to go when he was frozen, right?" Keith interrupted once again, "How did he get directions?”

“He used the force? I dunno, maybe he had a map." Lance shook his head, "Honestly, Keith, you should just watch the movies. I can't believe you've gone an entire childhood without seeing _Star Wars_.”

“Dude, those movies are like _a hundred years old._ ”

Lance rolled his eyes away from Keith's view. He could feel that unreasonable irritation rising again. Why did Keith always get under his skin so easily? Admittedly, they had both been awake for over 24 hours already and frankly, Lance needed something to talk about with Keith sitting right behind him for the better part of an hour.

“Well, maybe we should call it that,” Keith offered, after a moment of silence, “Dagobah 2.”

"Yeah. sure. Whatever," he grumbled.

Lance couldn't help it. He always felt stared at when Keith was around.

 

* * *

 

When they landed in the Blue Lion, Lance was surprised that they could put down almost exactly where they'd rescued the refugees a few months prior. There was no muddy or sinking ground. In fact, there wasn't any water anywhere.

As it turns out, when a planet is orbited by two moons almost the size of the planet itself, some rather powerful tidal forces come into play as the gravity of those moons draw the surface water away from one side of the planet entirely. The water on this side was simply... gone.

It was still baking hot though, and the ground was dry and cracked everywhere. Withered flood plants pasted the ground and tree root systems, dehydrated and flat, and the air smelled like a rotting tide pool. Every move Lance and Keith made after they stepped out of the ship stirred up huge swaths of tiny flies.

“So... this would be more like a Tattooine?”

Lance shrugged.

“No, but 'A' for effort, Keith. Tattooine is a total desert. No trees or plants. Just sand.”

“Oh. So, where I lived.” Keith's voice went momentarily flat.

“Yes, Keith. Where you liv-” Lance scowled and bit his lip, not bothering to finish he sentence. How could Keith possibly appreciate living in the desert for a year without knowing about _Star Wars_?

The air hung about them like a hot breath. The ground may have been dry enough to walk on, but leaving the ship into this humidity was like hitting a wall of bricks. He was already beginning to sweat and, Lance noted with a sly grin, without his helmet Keith's hair was starting to frizz. So was his own. Dammit.

Keith activated his bayard and looked to Lance for instructions. Lance looked about, searching for any familiar landmarks. He had a general idea of where he was going and he made his way to the edge of the clearing where he'd landed Blue toward a dense mess of thick vines. Keith swung at them with a decisive blow from his sword, and they immediately fell away... revealing even more vines behind them.

This was going to be a hard hike.

 

* * *

 

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?” Keith grunted, as he hacked through another wall of vines with his bayard. They fell and hit the hard ground with a dull thud. The two paladins had been hiking through the drained swamp for over an hour now, with Lance guessing the way and Keith using brute force to clear a path.

“To be completely honest, I have no idea," Lance answered, doing his best to not give the impression that he was already out of breath despite having done none of the work, "After three months, everthing is different."

He circled around on the spot, looking back the way they came, and then off to his left and right.

"I don't know why I thought it would all be the same.”

Lance chose not to hear Keith grumbling “ _Because you're an idiot_ ” under his breath, while they changed directions yet another time.

“Look, I want to try to find the Snake-worm thing's body," said Lance, cautiously, "See if it's still there where we killed it. Maybe we can find a clue.”

Keith sighed and shrugged and kept on cutting his way through the dense vegetation. “Yeah, we can try.”

They marched for several more hours, feeling vague wisps of familiarity between certain uniquely shaped stumps or clusters of trees. It was hot and slow and the tree crabs crunched under their feet as they tried to bury their little bodies further under the drying plates of silty mud.

The first clue they came across was a withered jet-black vine braided among a knot of green ones hanging in front of their faces. Keith cut into it and the vine oozed a thick black blood. And it had a spine. The boys visually followed the length of the body both ways as it disappeared up into the trees, and then down again, further along their path.

“Think this is it?”

“Looks the same,” replied Lance as he poked at the seeping bloody tentacle with a gloved hand.

“But, I mean, could there be more than one tentacle-eyeball-beast?” Keith asked, and it sent a vicious shivver up Lance's back.

“Keith, whatever you do, do not fucking bring up that possibility. I don't want to think about it.” Lance pushed forward past Keith and hurried up his pace, dragging his tired and sore legs one in front of the other. he couldn't handle the idea of an entire planet filled with nightmare-material.

The trail was awful to follow, and the clouds of flies were getting thicker with every step, but that was nothing compared to the smell. Lance was sweating profusely and his stomach was turning on itself and he could no longer tell what was his illness and what was from the ripe stench of decomposing body from this monster they were following.

Its body was nothing short of miles long. This was merely one tentacle, and it was getting thicker as they followed it back. Back to the source.

The swamp was incredibly loud during low tide, the squawking and screeching of the small pterodactyls ringing in both their ears. Occasionally one would drop down from the canopy and dig itself up a nice tree crab, then quickly take off back into the upper branches. Lance wondered why they weren't all just on the ground feasting away.

Lance couldn't help but think about the million possibilities of his own death. When he stepped on a crab and watched its soft innards get squashed out of it; the little puddle of orangey-brown and shell the only remainder of a once-living thing, he could only think of how fragile his own life was. If he wasn't being shot at by Galra forces on a daily basis, he was landing on alien planets with who knows how many parasites and diseases and poisons all around. Now that he thought about it, he was actually very surprised he hadn't died yet.

\--

“So what happens next?”

Lance was yanked suddenly out of his dark daydreaming.

“Huh?”

“In Star Wars. What happens next?”

“Oh,” puffed Lance, using that as a convenient excuse to stop for a breath, “Well, originally, Han Solo was going to leave the Rebel Alliance-”

“Why? They need him!” Keith wasn't facing lance as he cut more of the reeds and vines in front of them, but his voice sounded sincerely disappointed.

“Yes. Keith. Shut up. I'm getting there. He was going to leave, but when they got to space, the Empire shot out their hyperdrive. And they had to go hide in an asteroid field. But it turns out they were inside a giant worm mon- KEITH!” Lance blanched and he felt the bile rising in the back of his throat.

Keith jolted around to look at a bug-eyed Lance.

“Jesus christ, WHAT?”

“I specifically told you NOT to remind me of more worm monsters!”

Lance folded his arms like a petulant child, and Keith took that as an opportunity to get up in his face.

“How was I supposed to know that would happen? I literally haven't seen your stupid movies!” He ended with a small shove on Lance's chestplate. Lance rubbed the spot where Keith's index finger smeared off. Lance blushed a bit. Yeah. He was, admittedly, being a bit unreasonable.

“Sorry, Keith. I'm just... really nauseous right now.”

–

The closer they got, the more Lance could feel his stomach doing somersaults. Shivers were running up and down his body. This must have meant _something_. The body they were following was getting thicker. Even dried and leathery, it was still the size of a watermelon.

They came across more and more overlapping lengths of body. There were either multiple creatures, or this one was massive. Its body was like a creeping vine, sometimes implanting itself deeply in the hardened ground, and sometimes reaching up into the canopy of trees where it disappeared into the leaves and branches. Always, it was thick and dark and smelled like death.

And then, after a sudden corner, they were there.

Lance knew it immediately. He had spent too much time hanging there helplessly, memorizing the trees and the underbrush to miss it. The body was still there, wrapped and dried inseparably around the roots of the dead tree. Its head was missing. It must have decomposed or floated away. Lance got closer to the stump of its neck, seeing the rotting flesh ooze out in jagged chunks. The stench was overpowering. And yet, Lance needed to get closer.

“Welp.” Keith kicked a loose tentacle on the ground. More flies flew up.

Lance stood there in awed silence He was inches away from the dead body. He could see the alien maggots crawling throughout it, and even those were being eaten by the crabs burrowing in its body cavity. He was sweating and shaking. Maybe he was just tired from hiking? Please, let it be that. No. The rot was so strong he could practically taste it. His vision started to swim and he slapped his own face and screeched.

“NO! Get away! I won't sleep!”

“Lance!”

Keith had his arms out, but he was just edging around Lance, obviously not knowing what to do.

Lance was stumbling and tripping all over the place, and the loose tentacles and roots on the ground didn't help. He was staring up at the dead, almost crucified body of the snake-worm and nothing made sense. What did it want from him? Was this its revenge? Was he going to die a slow death because he killed the snake monster?

Lance didn't even kill it. Keith did. This was _so_ unfair.

“Come on, you need to get out of here. This place isn't doing you any good.”

Keith grabbed at Lance's arm, trying to guide him away from the corpse of the snake-worm and the sudden jerking motion was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Lance bent over and vomited all over Keith's boots.

Keith sighed, and Lance noticed the pressure on his grip change. He couldn't manage to lift his throbbing head to see what was going on, but Keith had stopped trying to hustle him away. Keith just stood there, and let Lance retch. Lance's cheeks were flushed with sickness and heat and most of all, embarassment. He should have been tougher than this. He should have figured out what the hell he was doing before he got here. But Lance had nothing. No clue. No solution. No cure. Just Keith.

“Sorry about your boots.”

Keith readjusted his grip, sliding his arm under Lance to support his weight better.

“It's cool, man. I'll just wipe it off on the grass. Come on, Luke Skywalker.”

\--

After shouldering Lance and half-dragging him far enough away from the corpse that they could no longer reasonably smell it, Keith set Lance down on the edge of a small circular clearing of mangrove. The ground was slightly elevated, with less tree-crabs than usual due to it being an open space. Good enough.

“What's the plan, Mr. Han?” And, in his slightly delirious state, Lance thought that pun hilarious. Keith smirked a bit, and began to gather up small sticks and branches in the dirt around them.

“I can't carry you back to Blue by myself, especially at night. We sleep out here, then figure out what we're doing tomorrow.”

The sun was going down. It wasn't terribly cold on the planet, but a fire would get them through the night. Lance watched as Keith, obviously exhausted, bent over at the waist to swoop up some more sticks. Lance was about to make an... _asinine_ joke, but he suppressed the urge when he saw Keith stagger. They were both tired, and Keith was the only one he had to talk to. Keith was the only one who volunteered to go with him in the first place.

Keith piled the kindling into a small box formation, using his knife to scrape the bark off of the dryest pieces into shaved tinder. Lance watched as Keith did this all with a practiced eased that said “I lived in the fucking desert for a year, I could light a fire anywhere, out of anything.”

No. No. Lance couldn't stand for that. Not after puking on Keith's boots. Lance needed to win something. He needed to settle the score. Keith couldn't accompany him, and guide him, and carry him away AND light a fire. Lance could feel the testosterone kicking in and taking over any rational thought in his brain.

“Hey Keith, wanna see something cool?” Lance activated his bayard and adjusted a small dial to the lowest setting.

“You're gonna light the fire with your gun?”

“Yeah! I discovered this trick a while back!”

Lance aimed and shot his plasma assault rifle at the small pyramid of sticks and they both watched as the gun blasted the stack apart, throwing burnt kindling in their faces, and in every other direction as well. The sticks landed around the blackened patch of ground Lance shot and there was certainly smoke, but definitely no fire.

“Cool?” Keith just looked confused, like he wasn't sure what the result was supposed to be.

Oh, great. Now Keith was going to make fun of him.

“One second! Let me adjust it a bit!”

Lance desperately fiddled with his blaster, trying to steady his shaking hands on the slippery plastic dials.

Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. “How about I just light us a fire like a normal person? You sit there and rest.”

After a moment of protest, and a silent staring contest between him and Keith, Lance collapsed against the tree where Keith had set him down. He hadn't noticed before how badly his heart was racing.

Fucking Keith. Always trying to show him up.

\--

Lance was sitting comfortably against the nicely curved tree, his dizziness receding somewhat. The fire was crackling and warm, a nice counter to the swiftly dropping temperature around them. The night air was no longer like walking into a bathroom with the shower on, and they could see one of the giant moons rising slowly on the horizon. They sat quietly, watching the flames dance and both realizing just how exhausted and hungry they were.

Keith brought out a handful of rations from his belt pouch, probably more than they both needed for one night and pushed several cubes into Lance's hands.

“Hey... Are you still hungry all the time? I haven't heard you complain about it in a while, and I don't know if it went away, or if you're just... keeping it all inside now.” Keith was avoiding Lance's gaze, even as he spoke.

Lance grabbed the cubes and gladly started tearing into the plastic packaging on one. He muffled a grateful thanks, his mouth already half full of food.

Keith watched him eat, the firelight flickering in the dark indigo of his eyes. Lance sighed and swallowed, looking over at Keith, who hadn't even opened his rations yet. He shrugged, and folded his arms.

“I don't think you'd understand, Keith.”

Keith looked up at Lance, his brow creased.

“Why not? Come on, try me.”

Keith looked like he was about to get up, and then Lance started.

“I've been feeling like I'm dying ever since we were first here rescuing those refugees. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to talk to people about it. It's this huge _thing_ and I'm just so afraid that everyone will reject me if I come forward and tell the truth about how I _really_ feel, Keith.”

Keith nodded, and the colour seemed to have drained from his face.

“I just wish you knew what it was like to have to hide something so _big_ so... _constantly_ from everyone else... you know?”

If Lance didn't know any better from the firelight, Keith looked like he was blushing. Heavily.

 _“Do you get what I'm saying, Keith?_ ”

Keith's pupils got really small and his eye appeared to be twitching and he rather aggressively started to tear into the plastic packaging of his rations with his teeth.

–

The night wore on, and Lance watched as Keith allowed himself to relax a bit. He still felt like Keith was staring at him, but every time he looked over at him, Keith's eyes darted away. A few rounds of this game and Keith finally broke the silence between then.

“So what happens next? Did Han and Leia get out?” Keith was much quieter now, leaning between a mossy clump and a rock that served to prop up his head.

“Yeah, they got out. But before that, Han and Leia share a kiss in the Falcon! It's been building for a while now. Despite all their arguing, they know they're in love.”

Lance's hands were making a little heart shape as he told Keith about the Empire Strikes Back. Keith got really quiet and stared up at the stars. Eventually, Lance decided that he just wasn't listening anymore, and the conversation faded away while the fire burned into the night.

\--

“Sleep.”

“NO!” Lance's mind launched into an adrenaline-induced panic. He was up on his feet before he could stop or think and he was spinning around, wildly looking in every direction like a scared animal and- wait-

“Why are you shouting at me, dude? I just think you should get some rest.” Keith crossed his arms, clearly on the defensive from Lance's over-reaction.

Lance was gasping and adrenaline was shooting through him, and the dizziness was so powerful, his vision was going checkered and black and white. It was all Lance could do not to fall face-first into the fire, and Keith seemed to see that as a distinct posibility.

Just stop. Just think for a moment. He was real. Keith was real. He wasn't dreaming. Not yet, at least.

Great. Lance was crying now. He couldn't stop. He was _just so tired_. He'd been awake for probably 36 hours, and the shaking wouldn't stop. He just... Oh, now Keith was seeing all of it. All of his weakness. In front of Keith.

“You don't get it, man! You don't understand the half of it!”

Lance was holding his head and swaying and he could see the rotting maggot-ridden corpse of the snake-monster swimming in the back of his mind.

“Lance, sit back down!” Keith was over to him in two steps, trying to force him back down onto the ground. Lance was fighting his urge to flee or panic or vomit, and just trying to stay sane in that moment. He so desperately wanted to sleep, but he knew the monster was always there, waiting for him.

Keith grabbed him and held him tightly.

“shush.”

Lance snapped back into consciousness. Keith was holding him. Tightly. Keith was hugging him. Cradling him in his arms? Bonding moment. This was weird. Not... totally uncomfortable, but weird.

“Just get some sleep.” Keith spoke softly, gently.

No. nope nope n-n-no.

“I can't go to sleep. I can't go to sleep!” Lance sobbed hysterically into Keith's arms, “The monster is telling muh- me to _sleep_. I think I'm g-gonna die, Keith. If I fall asleep, _I'm gonna die!_ ”

He was stupid and blubbering all over Keith of all people. His rival. The one he wanted most to impress. And Lance was so scared. Every time he started to feel better, there was always some reminder that he might actually die. And soon.

“What monster?”

Lance looked up at Keith with completely serious eyes.

“The monster in my dreams.”

Keith looked visibly worried now. His eyes passed over Lance's body, and, while Lance looked a little strained lately, there wasn't much visibly wrong with him. Whatever was inside must have been eating him alive.

Lance was shaking and crying, gripping Keith and so, so exhausted. Keith, raised his hand, and, after pausing for a moment, brushed Lance's hair out of his eyes.

“Hey. I'm sorry I'm not a doctor. But you look really tired. I think you should try to get some rest. Look, I'll watch you breathing the whole time. I'll check your pulse every five minutes. If anything happens, I'll wake you up or do CPR or something. Ok?”

Lance looked up at him, embarrassment and newfound respect for Keith flooding him. This _was_ a bonding moment! Lance's lizard-brain had to shut that shit down immediately.

“Ha! CPR, so you'll kiss me on the mouth?”

Keith didn't say anything. In fact, Keith just glared straight forward and his breathing got heavy and his lips got really tiny and pinched and white.

Lance couldn't argue. Exhaustion was gripping him. 36 hours without sleep was taking its toll and his body couldn't hold out for much longer.

“Just sleep, Lance. I'll be right here. Just get some sleep.”

\--

The swamp was deeper and darker than ever. The water was up to his chest now, and Lance had to carefully find his feet in the silt.

He knew what was coming. Lance was ready to give up, to let the water take him down. After 36 hours with no sleep, and the endless repetition of his own demise paraded in front of him, even his dream self was running out of the will to keep going.

“Sleep,” the monster whispered to him.

“I am!” Lance tried to shout. God damnit, he _was_ asleep. That's why he was here, wasn't it?

“Sleep”

 _Fuck you, monster. Stop fucking with my life_. The writhing body was encircling him again. Slowly, from the outer edges of his vision in the swamp. Lance knew, and he had little will left to fight.

Suddenly, he felt something on his shoulder. A warm hand. It was Keith? Keith was there, standing beside him, looking fiercely out at the swamp. And for some reason, he was also shirtless.

Keith stepped in front of Lance and raised his fists up, ready to fight. This seemed to anger the snake monster, and it lashed out, splashing and whipping its body, trying to capture them both.

Keith was caught up in its many layers of body, wrestling it in the water, and Lance could do nothing more than watch, his paralysis in his dream rendering him useless and scared. Keith was fighting, fighting for both their lives against the terrible infection in Lance's mind and Lance could do nothing more than watch. Watch Keith's muscular body, and his wet hair, his strong arms and... this was getting weird.

And then Lance was dragged under the water and the tentacles were shaking him viciously, knocking the air out of him and he was drowning...

–

“Lance, wake up!” Keith was shaking him awake.

He groaned and the nausea was back.

“Did I die? Did I stop breathing?” Lance was half awake and his nightmare-brain was still running full-force.

“No, actually. It's just morning. You slept all night.”

Lance took a closer look at Keith. He had tired bags under his eyes and a pile of sticks lay nearby, whittled into oblivion.

“let's get some breakfast. You snore really loudly.”

 

 


	4. (SCENE)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I spent too much time on this, I was mulling over plot ideas.  
> Next chapter will be up by the end of the week.

_Someone please help Keith..._


	5. FLEE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

“Let's get some breakfast.” Keith's voice was husky and dry, and, Lance noted, weak. They sat there and stared in bleary wonderment at each other for a moment. _He did it_ , Lance thought. He spent the whole night just sitting there, watching him sleep, like he’d promised. And now he was awake and they were awake and the night was over. Lance rubbed his hand over his throat feeling the ghost of the choking sensation from his dream. It felt nice to be able to breathe fresh air.

Keith was struggling to stand, and grunting while wringing his eyes with his balled up fists. He looked awful. Then Lance remembered that Keith had been awake for two days. Lance pulled himself up from the cradle of the stump he was sleeping in and looked out at the pinkish-orange sunrise of what would clearly be another hot, muggy morning in this evil swamp. He grabbed a small piece of bark from the stump and crumbled it in his fingers absentmindedly. Lance had to shove down the rising fear that he didn’t know what he was doing. That he had no plan and no cure. No time for that right now. He was hungry, and so was Keith, probably. Come to think of it, why was he being so quiet?

Lance turned around back to Keith to make a comment about the heat and he saw Keith had collapsed, peacefully, into a small disheveled pile on the ground. His curled-up body might have looked sweet if he didn't have his knife still clenched in his untrusting fist.

Lance looked at Keith sleeping there, with his lips slightly parted and felt a twinge of... something. Guilt? Thankfulness? Something else? Maybe it was just his stomach, as always. But Lance was feeling surprisingly refreshed from his sleep that night; the heavy moisture of the morning air hitting his skin and causing his damp hair to fall in his face. He wiped the dew-covered strands away and tried to think of the last time he’d had a good, solid night's sleep. Not for months.

He’d admit it to himself if not anyone else. He owed Keith one. Lance decided to go get them some water.

He took a small cylinder from out of his belt pouch and unrolled a plastic bag with a cap and straw filter. Now to hunt down the least disgusting puddle to use for drinking water. Lance took one last look over his shoulder. Keith was now on his back, snoring, a string of drool falling from his lips and his knife held close to his chest. Yeah. He'd be safe.

Lance found his walk in the early morning surprisingly easy. The mist swirling around his moving body was burning off quickly as the sun rose, and that same sunrise was reflected in beautiful shades of pink and purple by the enormous moon that was still rising slowly from last night. The effect made Lance's chest loosen a bit from its constant knot of anxiety and illness. He trailed his fingers along the tall reeds that lead down the makeshift path to where water might be. He was actually... _happy_... in this moment.

About a half hour later, Lance found what he was looking for. A leftover pond of evaporating water stood in a crowd of fallen logs and mangrove roots. Frogs, fish and tree-crabs were desperately clinging to the precious real estate, and with every footstep closer in the clay, Lance could see and hear the panicked flapping of small animals scurrying around.

He bent down, bit the cap off of his filter unit and inserted the straw end into the water. He wedged the bag into a nice crevice between some jutting rocks and a chunk of rotting log. And then he waited. The straw activated via suction and slowly, _slowly_ fresh clean water dripped into the bottom of the plastic bag. Not even technological magic could speed up this process.

And now Lance had nothing but his time and his thoughts. He found a nice place to sit down on a weathered log, and amused himself by flicking tree-crabs back into the pond as they tried to crawl up his legs and onto his armor. Each one landed with a tiny “plop” in the water and swam away to a covered rock or patch of sunken moss. Well, except for one of them. One little crab kept swimming back to him, persistently crawling out of the water and up the log, back to scratch at his boot again and again.

Lance named him Jeremy. He flicked Jeremy back into the pond.

“Come on, you. Can’t you learn the first time?”

The crab’s legs flailed about as it landed in the water until it righted itself. Then, steadily, it started swimming back towards Lance’s log.

The day was getting hotter and sweat was already dripping down the back of Lance’s neck. Everything around Lance reminded him of his dreams. Maybe as the months went by the details got a bit blended, but every time he was brought back to his nightmare-swamp, he remembered the trees and the fog and the fear of knowing exactly what would happen to him.

Fear. Water. A monster. Tentacles. Choking. Drowning. And then Lance would wake up.

Except, this last time, it was different. Keith had showed up in his dreams. And, well damn, he had put up a pretty good fight. Lance had never seriously tried to fight the monster in his dreams before. He tried running from it. A few times, he even desperately tried reasoning with it, but even when his mouth wasn’t glued shut, his words came out as garbled dream-nonsense. Keith got right in there and took those tentacles head-on.

Even his brain was now setting itself against him, telling him that Keith was a better fighter than him. Keith was able to kill the monster the first time around with his sword, and then wrestle it down later in his dreams. What was Lance supposed to be, some helpless princess in need of rescue? Fucking Keith with his stupid wet mullet. He _was_ a better fighter than Lance. And he had nicer arms. Lance crossed his own arms and gently felt at his biceps. Long and stringy, as always. No definition. Just noodles. Not Like Keith. Keith had really... toned... um, and his chest was nice too, and...

“ARGH!”

Lance picked up Jeremy, who was scrabbling around his knee armor and threw him as hard as he could back into the pond with a tiny plop. Why did Keith have to be shirtless in his dream? That was _weird_. And how could he explain it to Keith if he ever asked about his nightmares again?

“Like, yeah, bro, I saw you saving my life, because I'm a weak and helpless _loser_.”

Lance cringed, holding himself tighter, alone on a rotting log in a vast and unwelcoming alien swamp.

“Loser Lance,” He sighed, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, “Just like back on Earth. Just like out here in space.”

Lance was going to die a mediocre loser. Was Keith really always going to be better than him... at everything? Better fighter. Better teammate. Even better looking. His beautiful, peaceful, happy morning was ruined, and it was ruined by Keith. And yet he couldn't stop thinking about Keith. Couldn't get his mullet or his shirtless body out of his head. Nevermind sickness or death or miles-long space monsters on an alien planet, all Lance could think about was Keith's stupid face.

Maybe it was a clue. Maybe he was further along than he thought. Oh no. Lance was starting to turn! The zombie cancer he'd contracted was taking over, and now he was going to devour his friends! Of course Keith was first. Now that Lance thought about it, it all made sense. He was going to rot and die an become a mindless zombie and then Keith would be a hero and get all the credit for everything. And probably, like, Allura would fall in love with him and then he’d be Handsome Prince Keith and...

That was enough. Lance grabbed the mostly-full bag of water from the wedge of rocks and stomped away from the pond.

Except his foot didn't meet the hard clay he expected. It hit water.

Oh well, he'd missed his footing. No. Lance looked around. There was a faint bubbling, crackling, hissing sound everywhere and water was seeping and spurting up, out of the ground. The crabs were liberating themselves from the clay.

Lance’s gaze shot upwards to see the green skyline above the trees and two massive moons overhead. The moons had risen. The tide was turning, and now the flood was coming.

Shit, shit. Lance forced his tired body into a jog, narrowly tripping over the tangled roots, whipping past oversized reeds that were taller than he was, and with every footstep there was less of a clay crunch and more of a splash.

AND FUCK THAT TIMING, HE'D JUST WAITED TWO HOURS AT A SHITTY POND GETTING BIT BY SHITTY BUGS FOR A SHITTY BAG TO CLEAN HIS DAMN WATER.

Lance cursed out loud. He had to get back and wake up Keith.

Keith. Keith Keith Keith.

Lance could practically hear his name in the stomp of his feet, crushing the cracked and dried clay under his boots, squelching in the mud from the seeping water. Keith Keith Keith.

When he made it back to the camp, Keith was still asleep, and the small raised islet they had camped out on was quickly shrinking with the rising tide of returning swamp water. Lance was splashing loudly, kicking mud and water all around him to make it back to Keith in time.

“Keith! I'm rescuing you!” Lance screeched, rather loudly.

Keith squawked and shot up, his head whipping back and forth in alarm. His eyes darted around the swamp seeing the water now flooded everywhere.

It was ankle-deep.

“From what, exactly?”

Lance shuffled his feet in the brown water.

“From... from drowning.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith put his knife away.

Lance couldn't help the way he felt that lurch in his stomach when he saw Keith wiping the sleep from his eyes. His brain couldn't stop looking at Keith's abnormally long eyelashes. How could a dude have such long, dark eyelashes?

Keith yawned, and Lance became utterly fixated on his lips. They were chapped, and Keith was supposed to look like shit, with messed up hair and bags under his eyes but Lance just stared. Somehow the bag of fresh water he was holding in his hands became totally inconsequential.

“Are you ok, Lance?”

Lance could feel his heartbeat increasing. He could feel the urge rising. Keith looked at him expectantly.

“Hey, come here.” Worth a shot. Lance steeled himself and Keith groggily pulled himself together. Lance helped Keith to his feet as they both stood on the last vestiges of dry ground around them.

“What?” Keith’s voice was soft and hushed.

“Here. I need to test a theory.” Lance pulled Keith closer and Keith’s eyes widened like he’d never seen before. Keith’s breath was fast and shallow.

This was it.

“Gimme your hand.”

Keith was stammering, and Lance gently pulled his glove off with shaking hands. His pale skin looked really soft, and Lance wondered for a fraction of a second what it might feel like with his own gloves off.

“What theory...?” Keith watched with baited breath as Lance slowly brought Keith’s hand up to his face. He briefly looked Keith in the eye. Keith gulped and nodded.

And Lance bit down as hard as he could.

“OW, DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LANCE?

Lance admitted to himself that Keith was not, in fact, edible. Theory cancelled.

Lance was about to give keith a VERY good explanation to defend himself when they both heard an enormous sonic boom overhead. Both of their radios came to life. It was Shiro, and he sounded desperate.

“Keith! Where are you? Lance? We need you both! The Galra are attacking the castle! Come in, now!”

Keith was on his feet in an instant and hitting the tracer signal on his belt.

“Shiro, copy, where are you?”

“I'm in the Black Lion. I've got Red with me. Keith, we need you in your ship and ready to jump!”

Uh, what about Lance? Keith was scanning the sky through the treetops looking for Shiro’s arrival.

“Hold on, Shiro, we're not close enough to Blue! It's at least half a day's hike through this mess.”

There was a brief pause.

“There isn’t enough time. I’ve got your trace. I’ll come to you.”

Shiro arrived shortly thereafter and didn't even put down. Red was clutched in his Lion's mouth like a mischievous kitten and when Shiro finally released red, it flew down to land next to them, crushing the plant life and causing a small wave in the muddy water around it.

“Get in and take Lance to blue. I have to leave. Get ready to make the wormhole jump as soon as you can!”

Shiro curled off and left the atmosphere and Lance was just standing there, trying to pull himself together.

“Lance, come on!” Keith had gloved his bleeding hand and was already running towards Red. Lance picked up his pace and they scrambled up the ramp and into Keith’s ship. Keith was revving the engines, ready to take them to Blue when Lance put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. He felt Keith jump a bit in his seat.

“Hey Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you, uh, do you believe me when I say I'm sick?”

Keith grunted. Then he paused. Then he began his actual response.

“Like I said, I'm not a doctor, but I just want you to be back to your old self again. So whatever's wrong... it's preventing you from being you.” Keith turned his gaze to Lance, but quickly backed away, forcing himself to focus back on his dashboard.

“Yeah, ok, but do you BELIEVE me when I say I'm sick?”

“You’re a weirdo, but sure, Lance.”

“...”

“Yeah. I do. Now get ready to jump.”

Fucking fuck. Shit. Keith hadn’t slowed down nearly enough and Red’s mouth opened and Lance was caught in the jet vacuum and he was plummeting and his booster pack’s emergency settings were kicking in and he was trying to stop his over-rotation and Blue was coming up REALLY fast. Blue tilted her head up, mouth open wide to catch Lance mid-fall. Without thinking he was in his pilot seat and leaving the atmosphere of Dagobah 2, trailing far behind Keith and Shiro in the race to the wormhole. He saw both of them disappear in a flash of light, and Lance hit the accelerator, speeding up to catch the closing portal; the gate nearly clipped Blue's tail as it shut permanently behind him.

Lance felt the familiar pressure on his body from the warp and then he was out in deep, black space again. He arrived to a terrible sight. Galra drones were everywhere and the castle’s failing shields were barely holding ground with Pidge and Hunk streaking around, trying in vain to put a dent in the massive swarm of ships.

“Thank god you guys are back,” shouted Hunk, “We need to form Voltron NOW!”

Already Keith was in position flanking Shiro, and Pidge was coming in after. Lance knew what to do next, but before he could initiate his lion, Hunk’s comm can on again.

“Hey Lance, are you ok to go through with it?”

Ugh, right. Not two days ago Lance had collapsed in his lion to nearly disastrous results for the rest of the team. A deep pang of guilt hit Lance and he brushed it aside in the only way he knew how.

“What? Pfft, yeah! I’m back, baby! I’m good, I’m fine, I’m ready to thread the needle, buddy!”

Almost to prove his point, Lance accelerated into position alongside Hunk and made sure his connection to Shiro was especially seamless. He was back. He’d told himself that.

Keith, on the other hand, slammed way too hard into his formation connection and sparks flew as his slightly misaligned ship ground against the black lion’s body. Lance could feel the vibration from the jolted alignment all the way down in Voltron’s foot.

“Keith! What’s happening there?” Shiro’s voice was more concerned now. Sure, Lance fucked up all the time, but this was Keith.

Keith growled into his radio.

“I’m fine. I just can’t handle the controls too well right now. My hand slipped.”

“What’s wrong, Keith?” Shiro asked, more persistent now. Voltron was formed. They all needed to be ready for action.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll be fine.”

Lance heard a small grunt of pain from Keith just before his mic clicked off.

When he was inside Voltron, In formation, Lance felt safer. He felt connected to his team. He could do his job supporting them, and together they could take down the Galra attack.

“Hunk! Shoulder cannon!”

Hunk plugged his bayard in and soon the drones were nothing more than dust and expended fuel. Hot shrapnel flew everywhere as the drones were ripped apart. The battle cruisers were starting to break their blockade encircling the castle.

“Nice work, team!” Shiro let out a sigh and of course, he couldn’t even take his hands off the controls before the blast of plasma fire hit Voltron from behind.

“FUCK it!”

“Pidge! Language!”

“NOT THE TIME, SHIRO!”

Voltron spun around just in time to get another harsh blast to the face, and Lance could see a red metallic tail whipping past them and gunning straight towards the castle.

The dragon-like creature streaked across the sky, and the team saw its living body amassed with cybernetic upgrades.

It was another one of Haggar’s mutated beasts.

This one was burning red and orange, with reinforced metal armour around its spine and joints. The long, sinewy dragon body ended at a too-large head with bulging eyes and plasma-blackened teeth. This one was unpredictably vicious, and thrashed out at any drone that got too near. It didn’t seem to care too much where it shot, and it fired hot beams out of its mouth at Voltron and Galra alike, but still it had its purpose. With a rumbling lurch in its throat the dragon-beast formed an enormous blast and struck the castle full-force. And the castle's shield disintegrated.

The beast thrashed in space, spitting sparks and fire in every direction, and it deftly twisted out of the way when Keith formed the sword, slicing awkwardly through nothingness. It curled back on itself and shot over to one of the castle-ship’s four spires.

The metal reinforcements around its jaw clamped down on the spire, and Lance could see Coran aiming the castle’s defensive laser-fire to get it off.

“Be careful! It’s inside our particle barrier area, We need you to get it off before we can reactivate the shields!”

Voltron flew in and braced itself against the castle walls and with the work of Pidge and Keith, grabbed the dragon by its neck and pulled. It peeled off of the castle walls but not without shredding deep rakes into the hull of the ship with its teeth and claws. Once free, the dragon was furiously writhing and turning itself, trying to wrap its body around Voltron and crush it in a stranglehold. Wrestling down the cyber-dragon reminded Lance of the tentacle monster, and he thought, probably Keith, too.

“Hey buddy, you get enough experience wrestling tentacles now?” Lance chuckled. He had to go for the smarmy joke.

“What are you talking about?” Keith shot back, a bit shocked, “Can’t you tell I’m busy here?”

It was a dream, Lance. It didn’t actually happen.

Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh no. _In space, no one can see you blush_.

The dragon was becoming more and more enraged at being subdued and it let forth a crooked beam that took out one of the Galra’s own main battleships. And another. The dragon fired and bit and clawed and it clearly no longer cared about task or allegiance. It was a loose canon. It was live or die.

The galra warships were retreating now, afraid of any more losses from their own creation destroying everything in sight. Coran was maneuvering the castle to get a good shot at the body snaked around Voltron's torso, but this only served to draw its attention.

Keeping hold on its slithering body was proving a difficult task, and the entire team had their work cut out for them. Lance saw an opportunity in the struggle and tried to help with a solid kick to the dragon’s armored jaw, but that only redirected the blast it was brewing towards the castle. The shot was too quick, Coran couldn't maneuver away in time.

The plasma fire struck the base of the castle and hit its main propulsion system. Fires were raging and the castle had stopped moving. It was drifting helplessly on auxiliary boosters. It was a dead weight in space.

“Aim it away from the castle! We don’t have the power to take another blast like that!” Coran’s voice was desperate and there were blaring alarms in the background of his transmission.

They were trapped in a stalemate. The body of the dragon-beast was wrapped around Voltron and crushing it, but the giant robot’s arms had grabbed it by the head and was clamping its jaws shut. It wasn’t able to blast, but none of them were able to move.

“Someone has to move!” Pidge was struggling at her controls, “If we stay like this, it’s just going to burn us alive.”

More and more loose chips of hot molten metal were flying off of the enraged beast. Lance wondered if it ever felt pain before its mutation, but certainly not now.

It was crackling and sparking everywhere, small explosions ripped like boils along its body. The heat was starting to penetrate the ship, and Lance wondered how Shiro or Keith were surviving.

The beast shifted its focus and slammed its tail into Voltron’s back, forcing the arms apart. It slipped out easily and bolted away.

The monster stopped in mid air, is mouth smoking from within. It stared Voltron down with a bitterness that Lance could not place on such a warped and mindless creature. Sense seemed to have returned to it briefly. It was still, and calm. And then its body started glowing brightly.

“It’s self-destructing.”

Allura’s voice was low and plain. This was not something any of them would survive.

Well, he was wrong. Lance wasn’t going to die a mediocre loser, they were all going to die. Everything was for nothing. Lance let his hands go slack on the controls. He was sitting there, numb in his seat.

“I’m sorry.” Shiro whispered.

Pidge’s comm clicked on and off several times but nothing came through except a few clipped sobs.

“I wish I could have done more,” Hunk sighed.

Lance could feel tears welling up within him.

“I love you guys,” was all Keith said.

Lance would do anything to protect his friends. Anything to save them. He would die for them. He needed to save them. The blast was getting closer. Anything. It would wipe out him and the castle, and the universe would lose its last hope. Lance's breath hitched in his mouth.

Everything was all so quiet and so far away.

Lance could hear a faint whispering in the back of his mind. But this was not any monster or nightmare. It was safe and warm and familiar. It pierced him and spoke straight to his heart. It was a voice and a feeling.

It was Blue. “Do it. Do it now.”

He could feel time in slow motion as the blast shot towards them and the castle. This was it, his only shot. Lance grabbed his bayard and jammed it into the ship, feeling the solid connection as he rotated it once. And then everything turned a brilliant cerulean blue.

Out of Voltron’s chest poured a glowing blue shield that streamed out over its body, around them, past the entire castle itself.

The bubble of energy encompassed the entire area around them and the beast shrieked as it knew its final attack would be in vain. And then it was gone in a flash of white-hot light.

The blast hit Lance like no other. Voltron collided backwards into the castle,and they were pushed violently away by dying might of the dragon-beast. But the blue shield held. It held for all of them. They were alive.

After the pulse swept past them, the shield slowly faded from its brilliant blue to a faint glow and then disappeared entirely. Lance stared at his hand still clutching his bayard in a death-grip. He was breathing. His heart was still beating.

  
He’d saved them. He’d saved them all.


	6. FIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

He was starting to hear things again, even if he couldn’t understand them. Voices were coming in from his radio around his head, and he could vaguely place them as Shiro or Allura. The ringing in his ears was lessening, and he could feel the tips of his fingers again. Lance was tired and sore and his stiff body was not cooperating, but he felt warm and fuzzy inside. He’d protected his family from the Galra. He wasn’t a loser.

He was a hero.

Lance had never been so glad to land in the hangar of the castle. It felt surreal. The shock and adrenaline were still surging through him, and his brain was aching and full of fuzz. He took a few steps around the hangar to see Pidge exiting her lion and then suddenly he was somehow in Hunk’s arms and being spun around way too fast and hugged and things were all going to be ok. For now.

He felt the solid thump on his chest as Shiro clapped him on the back, and he had no idea what their brief conversation was about. He didn’t even remember if he’d said anything. All he could focus on was the throbbing pain between his temples. But Shiro walked away, and then Pidge hugged him, chattering something about energy and the Blue Lion and trust and teamwork, and Lance felt really, really good about himself.

That is, until they were walking down the corridor from the hangar to the main section of the castle, and Lance caught sight of Shiro with his hand on Keith’s shoulder. Lance could see a trail of dried blood around the edge of Keith’s glove, even as he kept his hand carefully to his side. Shiro noticed it too, but Keith shrugged it off. Their conversation was hushed, and Lance could barely make out what they were saying.

“... especially with everything else going on," said Shiro, smiling at Keith, "You really pulled it together this time. Stay patient. You’re doing good, Keith. I’m proud of you.”

Keith? _Keith_ was doing good? After, what, pulling an all-nighter? After dropping the ball with the sword? Hello, _someone else_ had been having a rough time for _months_ now, and he just saved everyone and the castle to boot! No way Keith was going to get credit for this. It was exactly as Lance had predicted it when he was getting them both water earlier that morning. Lance had stepped up, and _succeeded_ , and now Keith was gonna be the hero.

Lance could feel that surge of jealousy boiling up within him, making his headache all the worse. No matter the adrenaline or exhaustion or ever-present nausea, he just couldn’t stand there witnessing Shiro being near Keith, praising him, rewarding him, and dumping Lance by the sidelines.

Keith looked back over his shoulder and saw Lance’s very obvious scowl. He rolled his eyes, shrugged, shook his head and just kept on walking.

Something reasonable in Lance’s brain turned off.

Lance followed Keith down the corridor after Shiro broke off to go find Allura. Surely he was going to medical bay to fix up his hand. But, Lance soon realised, he was following Keith back to his room. He was close to the door now. He was about to go in. Shit. Lance had to do something. What? He didn’t know. Just... keep it light.

“Hey. _Keith_.” His tone may have come across _a little bit_ flowery.

Keith turned around, and his expression was soft, and glad. And then he clenched his injured hand and his eye twitched and that almost-smile forming on his lips fell away as quickly as it had come.

“What.”

Lance just stood there, awkwardly existing in front of him. Ok. He stopped. Good. All according to plan. Now say something engaging.

“You, uh, gonna go fix up your hand in the healing pod?”

Keith looked at his injured hand, and the small but visible smear of blood on his glove.

“No, I wasn’t gonna. It’s really not as bad as it looks. I just want to sleep, so, if you’ll excuse me...”

“You might get an infection from that planet, just like I did!”

There! That would do it!

Keith paused for a moment and considered Lance's words of warning. He was leaning against the doorframe heavily, clearly exhausted and so, so close to being in bed. And here Lance made his stand. They stared at each other until Keith realised Lance wasn’t going to back down.

“Yeah, and a load of good getting in the pod did for you," Keith struck back, "If I get what you get, then I’m just gonna die like you.”

That hit Lance hard. What hit Lance harder was that Keith turned around and shut the door in his face. Lance banged on Keith’s door. He wasn’t nearly done yet.

“Come on, Keith! I saved us all! And I had that sweet bayard power up!”

“Yes. You did.” Lance heard the thunk of a tossed helmet hitting the floor.

“ _And?_ ”

Keith’s door slid open again, revealing Keith without his gloves, boots or helmet.

“And _what_? Why are you standing in my doorway?”

Lance could clearly see the bite mark on Keith’s hand, now. It really wasn’t that bad, surely. A small bruise and some bleeding that was already scabbed over. No reason to feel especially guilty.

… Right?

Lance’s eyes followed their way back up Keith’s body and stopped when they met his blank stare. Lance refused to be intimidated by Keith’s typical selfishness.

“Aren't you gonna thank me for saving your life?” Lance chided.

Keith rolled his eyes into the back of his head and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Whatever, Lance. I need to sleep.”

Keith turned towards his bed with a desperate longing and made to close the door again. Lance pushed his way into Keith’s room.

“Come on! I did great! Shiro always gives you recognition! I heard him in the hallway!”

Keith blanched for a moment, eyeing Lance suspiciously. Lance felt a jolt in his gut. Maybe he’d heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

“Then go fucking find Shiro!" growled Keith, "Look, I’ve gotten a total of two hours of sleep in two days, and thanks to you, I have a nasty bite on my hand. Honestly Lance, I don't know what your fucking problem is, but you're about to have a much bigger one.”

Keith’s stance was becoming much more hunched and defensive. Clearly he was hiding something. Lance would have to pry it out of him.

“Jealous.” Lance sniffed, and then Keith got that glint in his eye.

Lance tried to duck, but it was too late. He saw the hand in motion, but it was too late. He didn’t even close his eyes. It was too late.

The force of that slap rang out across the galaxy.

Lance could feel the throbbing sting in his cheek and he had to step back and hold himself steady against the doorframe. Keith had slapped him. On the face. Keith slapped him.

“You…”

Lance brought his fingers up to his cheek to confirm that, yes, Keith had just slapped him. Lance looked down at his hand and then back up to Keith, who looked like a cornered animal.

“You can't DO that!" whined Lance in shocked indignation, "I'm _sick_! You're… You’re not _allowed_ to do that to a sick person!”

When he looked down at his fingers once more, he saw blood on them, but it wasn’t his. Keith had slapped him with his injured hand.

“And I’m sick and tired of your _bullshit_ , Lance! _Go away_! I’ve tried… I can’t- Just fuck off and leave me alone! You don’t understand anything!”

“I understand that you want to be a fucking hero and take all the credit for MY work here!” Lance interjected.

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!”

Keith lunged at Lance and suddenly had him against the wall. Lance could feel Keith’s body pressed up against his, and the sensation caught him by surprise. Keith was close. Keith's breath was hot. Keith was certainly paying him attention.

“What do you WANT from me?”

For better or worse, Lance got what he wanted.

“Tell me I did a good job!”

“I already told you!”

“No, you didn’t!”

“YOU DID A _GOOD JOB_! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT, YOU FUCKING BABY?”

Keith was up in his face and snarling. Somehow, in some dirty way, Lance felt better when Keith was mad. Like he was winning. What he was winning at, he didn’t know. And he didn’t want to have to think about it. Keith was locked in his gaze and Lance just took him in. He let Keith grip his skinny biceps. He let Keith pin his neck against the wall with his elbow, threatening to choke him. Keith held off just enough not to crush his windpipe.

“Fuck you. I bit you," Lance coughed, "You’ve got whatever I got too, now. Get it over with and then die like me.”

Keith’s arm lowered and Lance gasped for breath. And then Keith grabbed him and threw him on the floor.

“Some of us have to get by without constant praise, Lance!”

“But you DO get constant praise!”

Lance knew that Keith knew that that part was real. His taunts were designed to get under Keith’s skin, but now, he was losing ground. Keith knew his weakness. And he was going to take full advantage of it. Keith dove and pinned Lance to the floor.

Lance and Keith’s fingers were locked together and Keith was, Lance admitted to himself, winning. He couldn’t shove Keith off; he couldn’t use his weight or slither out from under him. Keith was matching him move for move and always his face was right next to Lance’s.

Keith was getting closer and his spit hit Lance’s cheek as he tried to rear up and headbutt Keith. Keith whipped back and used his weight to slam Lance’s body back down on the floor. Hard.

Lance felt the metallic tang of blood and shock flow through him as the back of his head collided with Keith’s floor. His strength was fading. He was losing. He had one option left.

“Han Solo _dies_ at the end.”

Realisation hit him and Keith was momentarily taken aback. His eyes widened in shock. And that hesitation was enough for Lance to suckerpunch him.

“Yeah. The end of Empire Strikes Back. Han _dies_ ,” Lance sneered.

“OH MY GOD YOU MAKE ME CRAZY,” Keith screamed as he wrestled Lance down. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t play. Keith had both of Lance’s shoulders pinned down and he was countering Lance’s every move to squirm away.

“Is this the sickness affecting your brain now, or were you always this much of an ASSHOLE?”

Lance started laughing defensively. He couldn’t help it. He was tired and scared and he had no idea what he was doing. Keith might just be killing him right now.

“I trusted you, Lance! And all you do is fuck me over and over. God _damn_ it. Hunk was right. You are a ‘ _special case_ ’.”

Lance’s mind was forced into new realisation. Hunk was talking to Keith?

“Oh, and what the fuck was Hunk saying about me now? Or Shiro? What are you talking about behind my back?”

Lance was tempted to just spit in Keith’s face. He was going to do it. One more move from Keith.

“NOTHING! It’s not about you- I- JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Keith suddenly went slack. He was still sat right on top of Lance’s hips, but he raised himself up from pinning Lance and his arms drained of their strength. His fingers were gently intertwined with Lance’s for a moment, and then they broke apart, drifting to Keith’s sides.

“I... don’t want to do this anymore.”

Lance rolled over on his side and slid out from underneath Keith’s legs. He scrambled to his feet, waiting for Keith’s next move. But Keith just stayed there on the floor, staring forward.

Keith had stopped fighting. Keith had stopped responding.

He was just sitting on his knees in the middle of his room, his face blank and his eyes red. His shoulders dropped and he seemed to have forgotten that he had hands. His head sank low.

Lance watched Keith’s hair fall in front of his face. His breathing was starting to slow down. He waited. Something had to happen. Keith never just.. Stopped working.

Keith’s shoulders heaved and shuddered.

Lance dared to move closer. Keith didn’t lash out at him. He tentatively put his hand out and peeled Keith's shoulder back and then he realised.

Was Keith...

 

Crying?

 

No way. No. Keith was infallible. Keith never cried. Keith was cocky and tough and his rival and they fought because they were rivals. Lance and Keith. Neck and Neck.

Keith’s eyes were red and his nose was red. Tears rolled down his cheeks and hung on the tip of his chin. Keith gasped a couple times before his breath hitched in his throat.

“Why are you always SO _MEAN_ TO ME?”

And Lance had never seen tears streaming down Keith’s face like this before. Not even when they faced death together on multiple occasions. Keith was angry, Keith was bitter and grumpy and sullen, and Keith was never, ever this vulnerable.

“I don't get you, man! I've tried being nice! I tried helping you! I tried leaving you alone! I tried listening to you! I tried talking to you!”

Keith brought his knees up around him and he cradled his head in his arms, sobbing.

“WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?” His anguished words were muffled into his arms. “I try really, really hard to be nice to you, but whatever I do, it's never right. I wish I knew what I did that made you _so mad at me_.”

Keith’s words were interrupted by small hiccups and Lance felt an incredible weight inside of him. His head was pounding, and he was starting to feel dizzy again. He knew that if he fainted he’d have to face the monster. But seeing Keith like this, this pathetic version of him, it did something to Lance.

“I don't… I don’t-”

“You always make fun of me! You never thank me for anything! You blame me for shit I didn't do and YOU FUCKING BIT ME. What the FUCK, Lance.”

It was a small bite! He was testing a theory! Keith clearly didn’t understand what life was like knowing your days are fucking numbered. Keith didn’t know what it’s like to be a _loser_.

“You always think you're so much better than me and everyone treats you that way!” Lance retorted, “I'm fucking _sick_ and people treat me like I'm just in the way. Like, _Lance, why aren't you dead yet?_ ”

Keith shook his head violently. He was practically pulling at his hair.

“That's not true at all! Everyone wants you better! Do you... do you know how much I get fucked up thinking you might die?”

Lance waited for an answer. He waited for a comeback. He just watched tears stream down Keith’s face. The weight of Keith’s words hung heavily in the air between them. Keith’s eyes disturbed him; he had to find some way to escape the incredible guilt washing over him. The dizziness was winning. Pushing at him. Pressuring him from inside his own head. Lance swayed on the spot, while Keith swam in and out of focus.

And he heard a tiny, menacing voice whispering in the back of his mind.

 

“Soon.”

 

Lance gathered up what strength he had left and bolted out of Keith’s room. He was barely out the door and around the corner when he collided with a soft, warm solid pillar. It was Hunk. Hunk grabbed Lance by the arms and it was only in his steady grip that Lance realised how much he was shaking.

“Hey. Lance. Stop. Hey.”

Lance stopped trying to peel himself away from Hunk.

“We should talk.” Hunk was trying to keep his voice gentle, but Lance could hear the clearly defined strain of concern in it.

“No! No more talking! I just had a talk, and now Keith hates me because I found out his plan!”

Hunk’s face contorted.

“Plan? No. Dude, I heard what happened and… Honestly, I think you’re wrong.”

Not Hunk, no. Lance needed Hunk. Hunk had to be his friend. Hunk had to be there for him.

“Lance, Keith has tried so hard for you and you’ve been a total dick, sick or not.”

Hunk… had to believe him.

“Oh, so you don’t believe that I’m sick?”

Hunk sighed and squinted. “That’s not what I said, Jesus! You hear the worst in anything! It’s not fair that he punched you and gave you that bloody nose, but you should still-”

Lance cut Hunk off.

“He didn’t punch me.”

Lance brought his fingers up to his face. The hot blood dribbling down was definitely his. He stared at his fingers in confusion. When did that happen?

“But I get it. I listened to you both. You’re both stubborn and angry and tired and scared of dying. We all are. Nobody wants you to die, Lance. Especially not Keith. We just don’t know how to help.”

Nobody knew how to help, that was for sure. When Lance wasn’t fucking up, everyone expected him to be at full throttle. And when he was sick, they acted like he was already dead. Was this just how it was going to be now?

“Soon.”

The whisper was more clear in Lance’s mind. It came with a wave of nausea that made him shudder and almost fall in front of Hunk. Lance turned the motion into brushing his friend off and stumbling past him.

“Just leave me alone, Hunk. I’m going to my room.”

“You’re making a mistake, Lance.”

“I don’t care.”

Lance staggered over to his room. The last thing he saw before he entered was Hunk going into Keith’s room. Great. Now they were going to talk about him even more behind his back. He swore at himself for forgetting to bring that up while he had the chance. But he was tired now. And bleeding.

Lance was now dripping large red droplets onto the front of his white paladin armor. At least this wasn’t the first time his uniform had seens blood. He went to his bathroom and stuffed tissue into his nose and started the tiring process of stripping his days-old uniform off his body.

More than anything, Lance wanted a bath. His muscles ached and his mind needed peace. He settled for a shower, letting the warm water pour down on his face and run over his body. The steam billowed around him, filling the stall, blocking out any view of the rest of the room. Privacy. Lance trailed his fingers down the clear polymer stall door, playing with the steam droplets that formed on the door and walls.

The tissue became soaked and eventually fell out of his nose. Lance let his nose bleed out and down his body, mixing and swirling with the water as it poured down the drain.

“Soon.”

The water stopped draining. He heard it before he saw it. A silence that signified the water was no longer flowing down the pipes and away from him. Then it came gushing back up, out of the drain, gurgling and swirling, filling the bottom of the stall. The steam choked him as the water flooded in and quickly rose up to his knees. He couldn’t see more than an arm’s length in front of him.

Lance reached out to find the faucet to shut the water off, but his hand touched… nothing. He stepped forward, expecting a wall. Nothing. The thick steam rolled all around him. The water was up to his thighs.

And the swamp had returned once more.

Drip. Drip.

Lance’s nose refused to stop bleeding. Each drop hit the water, spreading outward and staining it into a dark crimson wash. Lance stumbled around, suddenly very aware of his nakedness. It was too hot. Too humid. And Eerily silent. Nothing was attacking him yet.

Lance had one option that had worked in the past. He turned himself around and he willed his body to move. One leg, and then another. Finding his footing in the opaque dark water. He wiped the blood away from his face with his fist, splashing his hands in the water that was now up to his waist.

Every time his blood hit the water, it spread unnaturally far. Lance might have been fascinated by the effect, but he was preoccupied with running for his life. His legs were heavy and slack and refused to move with the strength he knew he had. Lance looked down. The blood had spread into a drifting cloud around him. He looked up again and his heart stopped. He saw a looming dark shape in the distance in front of him. Lance’s stomach dropped. The figure was coming towards him, and it was fast.

In the swamp, Lance could never tell time or distance. Everything was blurred and compressed. He was always afraid. Always knowing what would happen. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

The figure rose up in front of him, becoming more distinct as it parted the mist. Silently it glided towards him, barely breaking the water as it moved.

It was Keith.

Lance’s mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. Keith slowly waded towards him in the steamy swamp. He wanted so badly to breathe a sigh of relief. Keith would protect him from the monster. Keith would wrestle it down when it came.

Keith was coming closer.

Lance tried speaking. He opened his mouth, but only silence and air came out.

Keith stopped and met Lance in the cloud of bloody water surrounding him. And Lance could see in great detail his face and hair and shirtless body, down to where the dark water met the cut of his navel. His arms were outstretched. Keith was smiling at Lance; a sultry stare that was pretty unmistakable in its intentions, yet it was a face that Lance had never seen on the real Keith and he knew his brain reserved that face for fantasies of women.

Keith held out his hand, beckoning Lance towards him. And some hypnotic dream-force in Lance’s brain wanted him to obey. Maybe Keith knew the way out of the swamp? After a moment of hesitation, Lance chose to let go and trust Keith.

Keith grabbed Lance by the hand and brought him close. Lance swallowed. He breathed in hot, dense air. Moisture dripped down Keith’s face and neck. Lance caught himself staring at the droplet caught in Keith’s collarbone. Keith brought him in closer.

He wrapped his hands around Lance’s neck. Smiling. Tender. Lance couldn’t help but feel a blush rise in his cheeks. Keith tightened his grip and Lance was frozen in his firm embrace.

“Soon,” Keith whispered.

His hands grazed Lance’s cheeks and moved up into Lance’s hair. Lance closed his eyes. Fingers trailed down his neck. Lance breathed out slowly, experiencing new sensations flickering within him. Keith’s hands wrapped around his throat. Lance swallowed. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Tighter. Lance gasped. Keith was gripping Lance. Lance coughed, and Keith squeezed harder. He was strangling Lance. Lance started to panic.

He forced his eyes open and looked at Keith, still smiling in serene pleasure as his taut muscles gripped Lance and forced the life out of him.

And yet, in the back of his mind, Lance could still feel Keith’s arms wrapped around his waist. He looked down and saw the thick, black ropey tentacles encircling him. He looked back up. Keith’s head was no longer Keith. Only a single, large unblinking eye. Lance could see his own terrified reflection in the shiny black pupil.

“Soon.”

And the monster tightened its grip, dragging Lance down into the dark, churning crimson water.

 

\--

 

Lance was drowning, water filling his lungs, choking and spitting, and hot. It was rushing on him. Pouring up his nose. Splashing. Falling. Raining down from above.

Lance was lying in the bottom of the shower, the hot water still pouring down on his face. He coughed explosively and spat up a lungful water. He had no idea how long he’d lain like that. He tried raising his head. Judging by his neck’s soreness, and the clamminess of his skin, quite a while.

His nose had stopped bleeding. The drain ran clear. Lance pulled his aching body up from the floor and fumbled to turn the shower off. He opened the shower door and hit a wall of cool air. Finally. He felt like he could breathe.

Lance wiped his hand on the bathroom mirror and stared at himself. Keith was the monster. Keith had tried to kill him. Lance had no idea what to do anymore. First Keith tried to help him. Now he hated him. Nothing made sense.

Lance had never felt so alone in the castle.

He walked over his sopping wet and dirty uniform and grabbed a towel from the closet. He didn’t want anything to do with water for a while. Lance dried himself off and sat down on his bed, combing through his thoughts and steadying his breathing.

He decided he was hungry.

He looked at the clock. It was sleeping hours. The castle would be dark and empty. Good. No one to bother him. Lance threw on some pants and his robe and wandered down towards the kitchen.

There was a light on before he got there. Someone else was awake. Lance didn’t want to announce his presence, so he snuck up to the doorframe and listened for a clue. He heard a soft, familiar humming. Of course it would be Hunk.

Hunk. Oh please. There he was in the kitchen. Lance needed a friend. He needed an ally. Lance made some loud noises to sound as if he were arriving and wandered in. Hunk looked up from the cupboard of plates.

“Snack?”

“Yeah. Please.”

 

\--

 

Lance felt better with a bowl of food in front of him. Hunk sat in silence beside him, but Lance could feel a cold distance hanging between them. What had Keith said to him?

“Hunk, I need to talk.”

Hunk paused, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Yeah, I know. You do.”

“Whatever Keith said isn’t true!”

Hunk sighed, putting his uneaten bite of food back down and wiped his strained brow.

“Nevermind that, Lance. Keith doesn’t hate you,” Hunk shoved the spoon in his mouth and swallowed before he continued, “He’s just frustrated. Nobody knows what’s going on with you.”

Lance choked on his food goo. He coughed and pounded his chest.

“You have to believe me, Hunk! You're my best friend! Please! I'm dying! I'm going crazy! There's something wrong with me and I don't know what! I'm hungry and I'm tired _all the time_ -”

Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Uh, dude you’re 19 and a space soldier. That sounds pretty normal...”

Lance doubled down, poking Hunk in the arm with his spoon with every statement.

“I'm sick, Hunk! I'm _sick_ ! There's this _alien_ in my head. And,” Lance paused, wondering if he should reveal the last part to Hunk. He lowered his voice and Hunk leaned in, “It's been telling me things!”

Hunk leaned back and looked his best friend up and down. Lance questioned telling Hunk he was hearing voices, but Hunk kept his head steady, even as his eyes flickered around a bit.

“Whoa, ok. What's it been saying?”

“ _It wants me to eat and sleep_!”

Hunk cocked his head to the side.

“...ok?”

That was not the reaction Lance would accept.

“AND IT'S MAKING ME HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT SHIRTLESS KEITH WRESTLING GIANT SNAKES-”

Hunk squinted, and Lance realised his voice was way too loud for the situation.

“Hunk, it's Keith's fault! Keith used his sword and now something is inside me!”

“Um.”

“The tentacles, hunk! The tentacles! They _want_ something from me!”

“Yeah, dude, I'm... I'm really hearing you about Keith's “sword” and, uh, _wrestling tentacles_.”

Hunk paused.

“Lance, I dunno how to tell you this...”

He began several times, but each time his face scrunched up and Lance swore that Hunk was trying his best not to laugh. If he so much as let out a chuckle, Lance swore their friendship was absolutely over.

“Ok. ok.” Hunk breathed. “Lance, I'm gonna need you to slow down, and I'm gonna say this back to you so you can hear what it sounds like...”

Hunk squinted and coughed loudly. “Lance, uh, I don't think that last part has anything to do with- actually, you know what? Nevermind. This seems to be really fucking you up, dude. Now, I'm not sure what to say, since I'm not a doctor and the med pod says you're fine. But the Lance I know isn't a nervous wreck all the time, so whatever you say, I believe you.”

Good. Lance needed to hear that. He really, desperately needed it.

“Good. Because, well, the snake monster is telling me something else now.”

He gripped Hunk’s meaty arm for support.

“What is it?”

Lance got really quiet, his grip on Hunk's arm tightened.

“I don't know, man, but it’s telling me 'soon'.”

Lance stared straight into Hunk's eyes.

“I think I'm gonna die soon.”

Hunk stared at Lance and Lance stared back. His face was set with determination. Hunk registered that Lance truly believed he was going to die. Their gaze broke apart and they each stared at their bowls. Hunk wiped his eyes. He was letting it settle in. It was real now. Hunk had to know that his best friend might not live through this sickness. That he likely wouldn’t.

“Then you need to go apologise to Keith. For real. If you really think you’re dying, and hey, _I believe you_ , you don’t wanna die with that on your conscious.”

Lance’s face contorted into an injured sneer. It was an ugly look.

“Why do you keep taking his side? Why does _everyone_ keep taking his side?”

“We’re not-”

“Hunk.” Lance’s voice was firm. Almost threatening. Hunk was starting to get nervous. And that made Lance press harder.

“There’s something I don’t know.”

“Lance, go talk to Keith. _Please_. It’s not my business.”

Lance folded his arms like a petulant child.

“I’m never talking to that asshole again.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“And if I die soon, it’ll be true.”

Hunk’s eyes widened, and then his gaze dropped. The spoon clattered in the bottom of his empty bowl. Hunk groaned like he was in pain. Hunk’s hands waved around in front of him as if he were trying to build a sentence physically with them. He started a few times and stopped. Hunk took a deep breath and started again, slowly. Quietly.

“You two are giving me grey hair, I swear to god. Look. He’s in love with you, Lance. And he has been like, ever since we became paladins. And he made everyone promise not to tell, so you wouldn’t freak out. But it looks like you did anyway.”

Everyone knew?

 

...

 

Wait, _Keith was in love with him_?

 

Lance thought he might never feel hungry again. His mouth became incredibly dry. Heat rose in his cheeks. He was wrong. He was so wrong about everything.

Realisation washed over him and Hunk was far, far away.

Keith killed the monster to protect him, not to show him up.

Keith gave him his jacket.

Keith followed him to the swamp planet.

He stayed up all night watching him.

He let his friend bite him.

Lance was wrong.

He was wrong about everything.

  
He had to go find Keith.


	7. HOPE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go find Keith!” Lance’s spoon clattered in his empty bowl.

“... _Now_?”

Lance stopped himself after getting up. He felt a chill of embarrassment run down his face and neck. On second thought, maybe he didn’t need to rush into Keith’s room and bother him another time. It was late and he’d probably be asleep and Lance had already done enough damage to their relationship that day. He drummed his thighs and pursed his lips and sat back down on the seat beside Hunk.

Lance let the silence between them settle, and then he did what he always did when he needed comfort or attention. He leaned his head onto Hunk’s shoulder and whined quietly into his ear. Hunk took his cue and obediently patted him on the back. After food and comfort, Lance could finally feel his headache lessening.

Something still dug at him, though.

“Real talk, Hunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t believe that I’m dying?”

Hunk gently rubbed Lance’s back, thinking of his answer.

“Try to look at it from our side of things, Lance. You’ve been back and forth about whether or not there’s even something wrong with you for weeks now. First you say you’re sick, then you say you’re fine. Then you say you’re sick again, then fine again, then you fall asleep in Voltron, and then you leave for a day with Keith to go off hiking on another planet-”

“I was not hiking,” Interrupted Lance, “I was looking for clues to my illness, Hunk.”

“Ok. Looking for clues. Fine. Then you come back, say you’re ready to _thread the needle_ , and you save us with a killer bayard move, and now you tell me you’re officially dying.”

Lance admitted to himself that maybe that did seem a little… inconsistent.

“And Lance, we’ve known each other for a long time. You have, what some people might call a _colourful personality_.”

“I’m lively,” said Lance, in defense.

Hunk groaned. “The last time you said you were dying, it was because you lost your sock and your foot was cold.”

“Um, Hunk. It was _January_ . I was _clearly_ in a deep stage of hypothermia.”

“Case in point.”

They both laughed.

Lance started playing with his spoon in the empty bowl. He and Hunk knew each other. There were no secrets between them. At least, not before now. Everything was confusing and overlapping at the same time. He wanted so badly for this all to be a joke. Something he could play off as his usual antics and melodrama. But it was all too real for Lance. He could barely meet Hunk’s eyes.

Silence settled between them once again. A tiny, but perceptible distance that wedged itself between him and his best friend. Lance withdrew himself from Hunk’s shoulder. It no longer brought him comfort.

“I gotta go, Hunk.”

Lance slid out from beside him, already missing the warmth and solidity of his touch.

“Gonna go bother Keith?”

“No. Not tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

Lance put on the most confident grin he could produce and threw Hunk a thumbs-up. He’d just done it again. He’d told Hunk he was fine. Shit. But, Lance looked back as he left the hall, Hunk looked so relieved to still have the belief that Lance was just a drama queen. He needed the hope. Lance needed someone who would take him seriously.

He needed Shiro.

 

* * *

 

 

He was alone again in the dark hallways, the small pool of light following him down the long corridor away from the kitchen to the dormitories. Cold drafts of air blew on him from the high ceilings and even the soft steps of his slippered feet echoed down the hall. He swore he could hear his footsteps whisper “soon, soon, soon” as his feet swept along the cold floor.

Lance hated the hallways at night now. He always felt like there was something behind him. Following him. The shadow of the monster in his mind playing out on the floor and walls when the hall lights shut on and off as he walked.

Surely he was just being stupid. He was safe in the castle. The monster was in his dreams. It might be a nightmare creature waiting for him when he slept, but it didn’t control him when he was awake. It wasn’t real. His dreams weren’t real.

Lance instinctively checked his shoulder at the end of the hall, just before he turned the corner. Nothing. The hall was quiet, dark and empty as far as he could see.

He paused for a moment, calming his heart and steadying his breath before he continued around the next hall. Lance then collided with a ghost.

Lance was thrashing furiously and about to scream when a strong, dark hand gripped his mouth shut. He could see white all around him. Everything was fast and blurry.

Allura was hurriedly shushing him.

“Lance, it’s me. Calm down. It’s ok.”

Lance stepped back and Allura gently let go of his mouth. She looked dishevelled in her white nightgown, and her hair was a mess. Lance’s stomach flopped, and it had nothing to do with his illness.

“Lance, is something the matter?”

He took another moment to wrap his brain around what had just happened. This was not who Lance was expecting. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be up so late, much less the princess herself wandering around the castle halls at night.

And, ok, her hair did look really nice when it was all messed up.

“Lance, what are you doing wandering around this late?” asked Allura. She was eyeing him intently and she didn’t look especially happy.

Lance wanted with every fibre of his being to tell some part of the truth, but mixed memories and nightmares were washing over him, and Allura’s eyes were very pretty and very intensely focused on him and he had completely forgotten about Shiro in that moment.

“Um. Uh. So… how is the castle? Shields working and everything?”

Allura’s eyes quickly flickered about.

“They work,” She responded very quickly, “If you’re terribly concerned, it’s all right. We’ll be safe for now. However, the main propulsion system needs major repairs, so we cannot leave this system for a while.”

Lance nodded.

Allura seemed to breathe a large sigh of relief. She softened her expression.

“Is that all?”

Lance nodded again. He had no idea how to tell her about the monster.

“Well, if that settles your mind, I hope you can go back to bed now.” Allura was now walking past him, shrugging her robe closed. “Glad we could meet and discuss that.”

She was walking very quickly away from him.

“And Lance,” Allura added, suddenly stopping, “I did want to congratulate you on your exemplary use of your bayard earlier. However, next time you choose to celebrate, please try not to use up all the hot water in the castle. Other people need to shower.”

“Are _you_ mad at me?” Lance asked meekly, worried that his actions had now pissed off two people in one go.

Allura’s tone suddenly changed. “No, no. It’s fine! Really. Just go back to bed, Lance. Forget you ever saw me.” Allura smiled and waved her hand awkwardly in the air.

Lance was a little suspicious of her sudden niceness. Allura never treated him that well. But he let it go as he watched her silently leave down the hall. He had too much on his mind to figure out the psychology of alien women.

At the end of the hall, Lance hesitated before he knocked on Shiro’s door. His heart was still pounding from his encounter with Allura. He _could_ just choose not to bother him. Maybe Shiro didn’t want to be woken up this late. He couldn’t risk alienating everyone on the ship. Lance felt his nausea creep up on him. His legs were weak and his head was starting to hurt again. What could he do? If he stayed silent, he might just die without anyone ever noticing.

Lance balled up his fist and knocked.

Shiro opened the door rather quickly. He was pulling a black robe over his bare chest and pajama pants. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping at all, but he was smoothing down his fringe from a wild fray.

“Did you forge- Lance. Hi.”

Shiro’s eyes were much more alert now. His cheeks were flushed like he’d been doing push-ups in his room. Lance stared at Shiro. Shiro coughed into his hand.

“It’s… really late, huh?” Shiro offered, awkwardly, “Something you need?”

Lance looked into Shiro’s eyes, for the first time seeing parallels of his own tiredness there. Shiro had experienced far worse than Lance, he knew that, but he rarely talked about it. Shiro always kept his head together and pressed on somehow. Maybe he just instinctively knew how to deal with things that were over his head and out of control.

“Sorry it’s late,” said Lance, “I need to talk, Shiro.” He could feel a lump forming in his throat, his cheeks hot, all of his worries surging forward, trying to escape from him via his own tears.

“I can’t sleep. I keep having nightmares.”

Shiro’s gaze towards Lance suddenly changed. It was no longer that warm, patronizing smile. It was a cold respect. Worry. Recognition.

“You’re so young,” whispered Shiro, absentmindedly. Almost more to himself than to Lance.

He brought Lance in and hugged him in a deathgrip. He didn’t release Lance until Lance’s hands at the back of his robe slowly went slack and released him first.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Yeah,” said Lance, softly.

Shiro and Lance wandered the castle in silence, down several staircases, past the dark and now-empty kitchen, down to the main hall, and then, Lance realised, they were wandering towards the hangar with the lions. Lance didn’t really care where his feet took him. Next to Shiro’s large, intimidating frame, Lance felt safe to let go and think.

“Every time I close my eyes, I have nightmares. Every dream I have, I’m dying.”

Shiro nodded in silence.

“Would it make you feel better for me to say I understand?” Shiro offered.

“I don’t know.”

And that was the truth. Was it ever any better if two people were miserable instead of one, just so they could relate?

“And what makes it worse is that the med pod says nothing is wrong with me.”

Lance was on the verge of crying.

“The med pod deals with physical elements. It’s not magic, Lance. Good god, if it made nightmares go away, I’d have been in there long ago.” Shiro’s voice got low. “For a very, very long time,” He added, bitterly.

“But it’s not just in my head! It’s real, I swear! I’m falling asleep suddenly! I’m nauseous all the time! I’ve lost my lunch more times than I can count! Now my head is non-stop killing me and I got a wicked nosebleed out of nowhere! Keith didn’t even punch me!”

“Why would Keith punch you?” Shiro tried to pursue Lance’s train of logic before giving up completely.

“... Nevermind, Shiro. But I’m telling you, something is wrong with me. Really wrong. Not just in my head. The pod is just missing it. And it’s just hell that nobody believes me.”

Shiro looked at Lance. He took in Lance’s tired eyes and hunched shoulders. His worn, stringy body and trembling legs.

“I believe you, Lance.”

Lance’s nose ran and tears flooded from his eyes. Shiro brought him into another hug, and the hangar was silent save for Lance’s jagged sobs echoing in the night.

“Hey. Why don’t we get the team on it? We can ask Pidge and Hunk to diagnose one of the pods. See if it really is missing something, some tiny alien virus inside of you.”

“Yes!” Lance exclaimed, and his voice rang out in the enormous hangar where the lions slept. He could feel a faint pulse from Blue at the sound of his voice, the tug in his heart that asked him if they were going on a mission.

“We’ll start right away when everyone wakes up. In the meantime,” added Shiro, “We all have to find our ways to make peace with the things that haunt us.”

“What do you do?” Lance was wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Well, I try to meditate on what my dreams mean. Often our darkest dreams are our minds trying to tell us something. Not always, but sometimes. And when I can’t figure it out, sometimes I talk things out with Allura. We support each other. Maybe if you spoke with someone about what’s troubling you or even just wrote it down, you’d find some answers.”

Shiro patted Lance’s shoulder. Lance had a flash of deja vu.

“Hey,” said Lance.

“Hmm?”

“How come you always do that to Keith?”

“Do what?”

“Pat him. Give him extra praise and stuff. I saw you earlier today. You were talking with Keith after we came in.”

Lance could barely hide the jealousy in his voice. Shiro saw right through it anyway.

“Lance, I don’t give Keith extra praise any more than any other paladin on the team. Sometimes I spend time with him because he asks for my advice, and I give it. I’d give you the same attention if you needed it. Like, maybe, right now?” Shiro winked.

“What does he ask about? And why did you tell him to ‘stay patient’ with ‘these circumstances’?”

“That’s not your business, Lance,” said Shiro sternly, “And you shouldn’t-”

“Did it have to do with Keith being in love with me?”

Shiro’s eyes widened briefly, then returned to their hardened stare.

“Hunk told me. Tonight, actually.” Lance suddenly felt guilty for saying it. It was the first time he’d really said the words out loud. Keith. In love with him. And they were in betrayal of Keith’s confidence.

Shiro took a moment before he answered.

“Keith’s conversations with me are his own business, and you have no right to eavesdrop, Lance. But I’ll tell you this. He just wants you to be ok. He’s worried about you, Lance. We all are.”

Lance swallowed. He couldn’t take anything back. He couldn’t rewrite the past. He could only move forward, whatever that meant.

“I want to get better, Shiro.”

“Want my advice?”

Lance nodded.

“Try letting help in instead of pushing it away when it’s offered.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro left him feeling, if not relieved, at least hopeful. There was a plan. There was progress, and most of all, his friends could no longer ignore or deny him. Lance made it back to his room tired but resolved. He had hope.

He looked at the clock. Four hours until daylight. His body was exhausted, but his brain was going a mile a minute. Lance debated crawling into bed for a few hours of sleep. But he looked at his dark room and the twisted sheets on the bed that threatened to choke him in his sleep like tentacles and the very idea of laying down and closing his eyes made his temples throb.

Lance felt a wave of fear. What if the monster knew? What if it had listened? What if it found out Lance was plotting against it? Would it kill him more viciously in his sleep? Would it tear him limb from limb? Would it takes its time and slowly squeeze him to death like a boa constrictor, or hang him like a noose?

Lance didn’t like any of those ideas, and frankly, he didn’t want to risk it. He found his entire bedroom suddenly distasteful.

And now he was outside of Keith’s door and pacing back and forth.

His head was pounding again. Let help in. Don’t push him away. Lance couldn’t get the vision of naked swamp-Keith out of his mind. Not the alien part. No. The touching. Oh, jesus fuck, why were his hands like that on his face?

Let help in. Let him in.

 

* * *

 

Keith opened up the door of his bedroom to see a bleary and dishevelled Lance in his robe and pajama pants camping out in front of him.

“Keith!" Lance waved awkwardly, "Hey! I um, I was going to knock, but then I remembered that you hated me, so... I thought I should wait. But hey, I stayed up all night for you!” Lance tried to laugh. It came out as a coughing fit.

Keith ignored him and turned right, towards the training room. He didn't want to talk, and Lance was missing his chance to make ammends with every step Keith took. In a sudden panic, Lance wrenched his stiff body up from the cold, hard hallway and realised immediately that this was a terrible idea. He was hit by a wave of dizziness that threatened to push him into unconsciousness. But Lance willed himself to stay together, and, even bent over at the waist, he reached out for Keith.

“Wait! No! Keith. Listen! I was totally wrong!”

Keith stopped in his tracks. Just for a moment. He almost turned around. Almost. Lance could see Keith’s body tense up. Then he kept on moving.

“Keith- I-”

Lance stumbled after him, his legs clearly still asleep.

“Do you wanna train together?” his voice sounded desperate. Keith ignored him, his head firmly forward.

Lance knew he looked pathetic. At least Keith wasn’t watching.

“Hunk said I needed to talk to you. Because you- About something really important.”

Keith almost tripped.

“Not now, Lance. Just leave me alone.”

He could see Keith's tightly balled-up fists.

“For how long?” Lance whined. The noise made Keith’s shoulders twitch.

“I don’t know. Maybe when I don’t have a bite mark on my hand.”

Lance paused, hurt and confused. This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go. Keith was walking away. He needed to say or do something. Lance racked his exhausted brain for something even remotely worth talking about.

“He doesn’t die!” Lance shouted. “Not for real, anyway.”

“Who?”

“Um, Han Solo.” Lance’s voice got quieter and quieter. “I lied. Kinda. I’m sorry.”

Keith turned around and crossed his arms, about to open his mouth. Lance cut him off in a flurry of words trying to barrage him with any information to make him stay and stand there even a second longer.

“He gets frozen in carbonite and sacrifices himself to save his friends! He protects them from Darth Vader and pays his debt back to Jabba the Hutt with his own life! And then later on, Leia gets him out because she loves him! She sneaks into Jabba’s palace disguised as a bounty hunter and uses Chewie as bait and she’s super brave about it!”

Lance was panting for breath. Keith looked incredibly tempted to say something rude, but Lance saw him hold himself off. Keith then turned and started walking again, down the hall towards the training room.

“Cool,” he said, over his shoulder.

Lance banged his head silently against the wall.

 

* * *

 

Keith never went in the med pod to heal up his hand. Maybe he wanted it to heal naturally. To take time. Or maybe it was the fact that Hunk and Pidge were now setting up a small bio-engineering laboratory together in the medical bay. They’d hauled up all of their engineering and software gear: Two laptops, a couple toolbox kits, miles of connective cords, surge protectors, remote controls and a mysterious glowing chunk of balmera crystal screwed onto a tripod. Just in case.

“Lance, I want to remind you for the eleventy billionth time that I am a _programmer_ and not a _doctor._ ”

Pidge was already craned over, behind the med pod, connecting multiple loops of wires to her makeshift computer setup. She had several monitors going side by side and a few gadgets that Lance didn’t even know what they did.

“And I want to also remind you that Altean tech is complex," she said, grabbing a pair of pliers and stripping the ends off a couple wires, "I’m messing with something that was developed millennia ago by a hyper-advanced civilisation. This is experimental science. There’s a lot of unknown factors here. I could very well make your illness a lot worse. Or contageous. For all I know, I could be creating a certified death-machine and you’d be my first of many vict-”

“Ok, Pidge, I’m gonna need you to slow down on the darkness train,” Lance interrupted. He'd had enough visuals of death to last him a lifetime. He didn’t need more.

Pidge sighed, tossing the pliers back in the toolbox. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m doing my best. But… I’m just as scared as you are.”

Lance smiled at Pidge as she sat down in front of her setup. She quietly adjusted her glasses, and started typing furiously onto her laptop. Then her face soured.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Lance was leaning over her shoulder, looking at the screen, trying to decipher for himself what the problem was from the incomprehensible programmer's jargon.

“Hunk," Pidge called out over her shoulder, "I can’t find my starter copy that I made of the medical system database. Did you bring up the E: drive or the G: drive?”

“G, I think.” Hunk tilted the hard drives, looking for the labels.

“Fuck.”

“Language!” Hunk and Lance simultaneously jabbed their fingers in her direction.

“Fuck you both. Let me go get it.” Pidge grumbled, and left for the hangar where she hoarded the rest of her gear with Green.

Lance sat at watched Hunk fiddle with the wire connections with a bored fascination. He tried to be excited, he tried to even just pay attention, but without any sleep, it was all just a bunch of techno-blur at this point. He started idly playing with a spanner from the toolkit.

“So,” said Lance, “I tried talking to Keith this morning.”

“And how did that go?” Hunk was humming along behind the med pod.

“He confirmed hates me. Wouldn’t even look at me.” Lance pretended to stab himself in the chest with the spanner.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah. He does.”

“Dude, he’s messed up," said Hunk, "And also, you _did_ bite him. Like, rule number one, maybe don’t _literally_ bite the hand that feeds you.”

Lance threw his hands up in the air.

“Always with the biting! Can nobody drop it?”

Hunk poked his head out from behind the pod.

“No. Because you didn’t even apologise. He’s done a lot for you. The least you could do is say you’re sorry. Sick or not, if you don’t, it makes you a real asshole.”

What did Hunk know? He wasn’t even there!

“I did say sorry!" said Lance, defensively, "He ignored me!”

Hunk hauled himself up from his knees and walked around the pod to meet Lance on the steps where he was sitting.

“Like the way you completely ignore him all the time? Lance, just get it over with and let him down gently. At this point, you’re just dragging it on and hurting him.”

That struck Lance hard. Hunk didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about the dreams or the monster or what happened in the shower last night.

“Hunk, I think I need to lay something out on the table.”

Lance’s voice turned quiet and serious. Hunk settled down beside him. His eyes flickered briefly to the bay doors but Pidge probably wouldn’t be back for a while. Even if she didn’t get distracted by an idea, she still had to walk to the other end of the castle and back. Lance cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

“So, you know when I told you, um, Keith was in my dreams and shirtless and stuff?”

Hunk nodded. Lance scrunched up his face. Hoo boy. Why was this so hard to talk about? Lance was cringing and his fist clenched the poor victim spanner until his knuckles were white.

“Ok. I need to start again from the beginning. Ever since we visited that swamp planet a few months back, I’ve been having nightmares every time I sleep. And the reason I keep having nightmares is the monster that keeps coming back.”

“Hold on buddy,” Hunk waved his hand in front of Lance’s face, “Monster. What? Start again.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, when we were separated on the swamp planet and I was looking for the refugees without you guys, I was also playing Star Wars, kinda-” Hunk cut him off.

“Oh, dude, that planet is totally like Dagobah.”

“FUCKING _THANK YOU_ ,” Lance huffed, “Did you know Keith has _never_ seen Star Wars?”

Hunk shrugged. “He had a weird childhood. I can’t blame him.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Well, anyway, when I was separated from the rest of you, I got trapped in one of those nasty tree roots, and this huge tentacle-ass... fucking _eyeball-monster_ comes up out of nowhere! Oh, god, Hunk, you should have seen it when we went back. This thing is _miles_ long underneath the water. It’s just this body that goes on forever.”

Lance gesticulated fervently with his arms and he was pretty sure Hunk was unable to grasp the enormity of the beast. So he made his arms even wider.

“Well, it’s wrapping me up and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna eat me," said Lance, "And then Keith shows up out of nowhere and he leaps down and cuts its head off-”

Hunk interrupted him. “Sorry Lance. Forgive me, but. _Cool_.”

Lance broke into a smile. “Nah, it kinda was,” he shrugged. He felt a new sensation washing over him. What was it? Relief? Where previously there was a burning, jealous heat in his head whenever he thought of Keith’s accomplishments, there was now a kind of awed respect. He could compliment Keith now. He could thank him. Keith had rescued him. And it was… cool.

“So, he slices its eyeball-head right off, and then we leave. All done and dusted, right?”

“No, obviously. But yes. Continue the story, Lance.”

“Well, everytime I close my eyes now, I dream that I’m back in the swamp. But it kinda changes a bit every time.” Lance’s voice suddenly sank, quivering at the flashes of memory welling up within him. Blood. Water. Mist. Keith.

“Fuckin’ dreams. Get it right.” Hunk elbowed Lance, trying to bring back the humour.

“I know, man,” Lance tried to laugh. It came out strained. “And here’s the scary part. It kills me every time.”

“Huh, what does? The swamp?”

“No, the _monster_. It kills me in my dreams. Every time. I’m always wandering around in the swamp, and it’s misty and foggy and then its evil tentacles reach up out of nowhere and grab me and strangle me. They pull me down and I’m then I’m drowning until I black out. Every time.”

“Harsh.”

Lance nodded solemnly.

“Well, that’s where the Keith part comes in.”

Lance paused before continuing. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“Ugh. Yeah, so when Keith and I went back to the planet to look for clues, we um, ran into some trouble and decided to camp out for the night.”

Hunk suppressed a noise that Lance chose to interpret as a squeal. Lance cleared his throat again. Hunk shut up.

“Did you find anything?” Hunk asked excitedly, then, “Wait, what trouble?”

Lance shuddered, remembering the rotten leathery corpse of the monster crawling with insects. Even the memory of the smell made his stomach churn.

“I got sick and I horfed on Keith’s boots. Moving on.”

“That dude is _patient_.” Hunk patted Lance on the back as he chuckled.

“And no," said Lance, "We didn’t find anything. Well, the one thing I discovered is that _that_ night was when my dreams started changing. Keith showed up in my dream for the first time and instead of the monster killing me right away, he wrestled it down. I don’t know why that happened, but I was able to sleep through the night.”

“Ok, so that’s a good thing.” Hunk was nodding.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, “Maybe Keith staring at me the whole time kept the monster away. He watched me sleep the whole night.” Lance spoke with a bit more fondness than he’d intended.

“Oh my _god_ that boy has patience.” Hunk burried his face in his hands.

Lance looked down at his hands. “I’ve been a dick.”

“Yeah," said Hunk, "You have. Keith didn’t even mention the fact that he stayed awake all night for you when I talked to him.”

“Ok, but what did you talk about?” asked Lance, unable to hold back his curiosity.

Hunk shrugged. “The same thing we always talk about. How fucking dumb you are, and how hard he tries to please you. And how nothing he does ever works. If he tries to impress you, you get offended. If he asks for help, you insult him. When he tries to wait for you to make the first move, you don't notice. We had this running joke that if he gave you a bouquet of flowers and a diamond ring, you’d just ask who it was for.”

Lance felt insulted at first. But then, after thinking about Hunk’s words, he realised Hunk was right. God, what did Keith even see in him?

“Am I really that-”

“Oblivious?” Hunk offered.

“... _mean_ …” Lance whispered. He could hear Keith’s sobs freshly in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and punch himself in the face. Maybe that was how he got the bloody nose. Lance laughed in spite of himself. Why was he so awful when Keith had really been nothing but kind and patient with him?

“Well," Lance continued, trying to change the subject on his own thoughts, "Then there was the dream I just had last night. It was… weird.”

“Weirder than tentacles in swamps?”

“Um, Keith was there again.”

Lance was rubbing his temples and furiously avoiding eye contact with Hunk.

“And maybe… we were both naked.”

“I’m not judging you.” Hunk said, his tone honest and genuine, “Is this important to say?”

“Well, Keith and I kinda had… a moment.”

“A bonding moment?”

“You could say that. Maybe…” Lance trailed off, playing with his fingers.

“Like he… put his hands on me. And I’d never, uh,” Lance took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, staring pointedly at the wall ahead of him, “Look, what I’m trying to say is that if I wasn’t scared to death of dying, I would have had a raging boner. I think. And I just… Yeah. Keith.”

“Dude.”

“Yeah. So. When I said Keith was in my dreams, I kinda... I liked it. Well, the first part anyway. Then Keith transformed into the monster and strangled me to death. Hunk is this sickness making me gay?”

Hunk looked at his best friend.

“Short answer, no.”

Lance let out a sigh of relief.

“It means you’re attracted to dudes as well.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Lance threw the spanner across the room.

“No, I think Keith wants to do that,” Hunk laughed.

“Fuck off, Hunk, this is humiliating.”

Lance buried his red face in his arms. Hunk nudged him with his elbow.

“What’s the difference, dude? You cuddle with me all the time? We’re literally cuddling right now.”

“Yeah, but with you, we’re friends. And with him, it’s… well, it’s y’know… It’d be _real_.”

“Do you like being held?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like Keith?”

Lance shrugged admittedly.

“Kinda.”

“Just give him a shot. If you or he does something wrong, I’m sure he’ll try to do better. He really likes you, you know. He just doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.”

“Well, neither do I!”

“You’re doing it right now with me!” Hunk shouted, exasperated.

“Yeah, but like I said. You don’t count.”

“Wow, thanks.” Hunk pouted in mock-hurt.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I’m ok with it,” said Hunk, triumphantly, “Because Pidge owes me a _lot_ of money when we get back to earth.”

Lance didn’t even need to look in Hunk’s direction to fist-bump him.

“So, any idea how to be a boyfriend to someone who currently hates you?”

“Nadda. Try apologising?”

Lance considered Hunk’s words.

“And then what?”

“Apologise some more.”

  
This was going to take some work.


	8. BEG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has a backbone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

Apologise to Keith. Let help in.

Let help in.

Lance slumped down on the medical bay steps, watching the curious machinations going on in front of him with a bored fascination. Pidge was back, and both she and Hunk had disappeared into their work behind the pod. Occasionally someone would shout and electric sparks would fly and someone else would pass a tool or swear.

The general plan, as he’d heard it in bits and pieces over breakfast, was to refit the pod to be designed specifically for human bodies, and not an Altean or “general” life-support build, Pidge had explained.

They’d check the main mechanics of the pod to make sure everything was running properly and then work their way down to the details. Eventually they'd need some DNA samples from Lance, which he promised to happily oblige so long as he didn’t have to pee in a cup.

“That’s not how DNA works, Lance.”

The process started out interesting enough, and there was much commotion to keep Lance's attention early on. Soon after, however, Pidge and Hunk settled into their workflow, and then it was just a matter of Lance watching and waiting and trying to ration out how many times he could ask when they would be done yet.

After an hour or so, Lance just couldn’t sit there any longer and watch his one chance at getting better being slowly hacked together by two teenagers with a tech fetish. He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself up off the stairs from his viewing position. Having nothing better to do, he decided that he may as well go see if Keith was done training yet.

Lance left the medical bay largely unnoticed, slipping out after Hunk accidentally knocked over the chunk of Balmera crystal. The last thing he heard as he walked out the door was a whine of apology and a flourish of grossly creative profanity from Pidge.

It was midday in the castle-ship, and the graduated lighting shone brightly down from the vaulted ceiling. It mixed with artificial UV radiation giving the appearance of sunlight through tall windows. Despite his constant state of exhaustion, Lance always admired when the lights faded in programmed patterns, giving the illusion of clouds passing in front of the false windows. It was enough to trick his mind into thinking there was sunlight and fresh air and gravity just outside the castle doors.

He could hear the low hum of the castle engines in the distance. Allura and Coran were down in the engine room, busily fixing the main propulsion system so the team could get out of their stranded position in this unmarked star system. Shiro was probably with them. If not, he'd be in his room or in the map room learning about the wider universe or planning their next move. It didn’t really make much difference to Lance.

But Lance knew where Keith was when he had free time. It never really changed. Keith was always down in the training room, fighting robots and dealing with his anger issues. Probably sweaty. Maybe shirtless. Definitely fighting.

 _Fuck,_ Lance wondered, _When did he become so gay?_

Something caught Lance's eye and he startled, a reactionary shiver running up his back and the disturbingly pleasant image of Keith quickly fading from his mind. No, the castle couldn’t be intimidating during the day. That wasn’t movement Lance saw out of the corner of his eye.

It was just a shadow. It was just a cloud.

He kept walking forward, his hands firmly jammed in his pockets.

To the right. In the corner.

No.

Lance kept his vision directly in front of him. It was daytime. Nothing was chasing him. The monster was only in his dreams. It could only ever _be_ in his dreams. Lance breathed slowly, deeply in and out. He remembered Shiro’s words. He wished he had a pen to write down his dreams. He resolved to do that as soon as he got back to his room.

He entered the main stairwell and hopped down the stairs two at a time. Lance hummed one of his favourite songs to keep his mind busy. Nothing was wrong with the railing beside him. Down, down, two at a time, Lance let gravity propel his legs forward.

Lance’s foot missed a step and his heart leapt in his chest as he caught himself. He took a few breaths to steady his churning gut. But that forced him to look. Look down at the hall below him. To pause and see the slow crawling in his vision.

What?

His mind refused to focus and understand what he was seeing. Up, up. Rising up. The whole castle was moving.

No.

It was the crabs.

A swarming blanket of tiny tree-crabs were everywhere, crawling up the elegant metallic pillars of the castle, slowly rising to the top of the vaulted ceiling. They were on the railings. They were crawling up the stairs. Everywhere Lance looked was an infestation of brown, muddy tree-crabs clicking and crawling. Clawing and snapping.

And one of them, Lance saw, was scrambling up onto his shoe.

His first instinct was to kick it away, back into the cloudy mass of crabs now overtaking the main hall. But Lance looked closer. He noticed the familiar brown scratch in the shell from where he’d tossed this crab back into the pond and it hit a rock by accident.

“Jeremy.” Lance breathed.

Jeremy was struggling. He was more lethargic than the other crabs. Lance felt a sudden wash of guilt and pity. He was the one who threw Jeremy against that rock so carelessly, lost and absorbed in his own jealousy over Keith.

Lance picked up Jeremy and held the tiny crab in the palm of his hands, watching as it crawled about with newly emboldened curiosity. Jeremy stopped and looked Lance straight in the eye.

“I’ll keep you safe, Jeremy. I promise.”

Lance didn’t know why he felt beholden to the tiny crab. He only knew that he needed to protect it from the monster in his dream. And who would protect him? He had to find Keith. Keith was in the training room. Keith would protect them.

Lance rushed down the stairs, feeling the slip and squeak of his sneakers on the smooth stone steps. They were moist. Lance gasped as his feet landed with a splash at the bottom of the stairs. The floor of the main hall was covered in a thin sheen of water. He quickly recovered from his initial shock and took off at a run, kicking and splashing in the inch of water covering the floor. Crabs crawled all around him, ascending the walls in their unknown migration.

Training room. He had to reach the training room.

“Soon”

 _Yes_ , thought Lance, angrily. He _knew_. _Soon_. Something was going to happen _soon_ . He was probably going to die _soon_. Lance pushed on, breath burning in his chest, sneakers and pants completely soaked.

He skidded to a halt in front of the training room door, still cradling Jeremy the tiny crab in his arms. It was shut, and the light was on, indicating someone was inside.

Wait.

Last time Keith strangled him. Would he protect him now, or try to kill him?

“Soon”

Lance slammed his hand onto the switch and opened the door. A huge, dark wall of water came pouring out and hit him like a truck. The sheer force of the broken dam threw him to the opposite side of the hall, crushed against the wall under the pressure of rushing water. His body was flattened, his chest compressed. Lance had no time to think and he was struggling to hold his breath as the water washed over him, his arms tightly held against his chest.

Jeremy. Jeremy!

Lance cupped his hands to his chest, using his body to protect the tiny crab.

Water continued to rush out of the training room, pouring on him, flooding the hallway. And through the pouring water, Lance saw it. Hidden just underneath the current, causing a slight parting in the liquid surface. A black rope. Moving towards him. Reaching out for him.

“Soon”

He had to get away from the training room. Lance pushed with all his might against the rush of water now filling the hallway up to his knees. He was slipping and falling, nearly losing Jeremy in his effort to escape down the training room hall.

Where could he go? This was a dream. He was dreaming.

And Lance was asleep. He had to wake up.

Medical bay. He fell asleep in medical bay. He had to go back and wake himself up. Lance was running, slipping and sliding, crushing stray crabs, rounding the corner of the main hall and dragging himself up the stairs.

“Soon”

Stair after stair. He could barely keep his feet on the steps. Water was rushing down the stairs from above, churning around his ankles, pushing him, threatening to take him down with one wrong move. It was flooding the main hall below, slowly rising to swallow up each conquered step. Lance was trapped, struggling against the current. He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the tentacles crawling, seeking, chasing behind him. Black and curled and tense, reaching for him up the stairs.

Lance grit his teeth and picked up his pace, climbing the stairs two and three at a time. His thighs burned and he willed his body not to trip. He flung tumbling crabs caught in the current behind him with his feet. And still, more water rushed down the stairs from the upper hallway.

Lance peaked the stairs and hit the corner of the hall with a run. He slammed into the archway and pushed himself off it, thrusting himself forward into the hall. His lungs ached and his side was beginning to cramp but Lance refused to slow down. He could still see the dappled artificial sunlight in the hall and it was fading. Fading behind an artificial cloud.

Down the hall. Up another set of stairs. He was so close. And the light was fading. Getting darker. Jeremy. He had to protect Jeremy. What would Lance find when he got back to medical bay? Would he be there in his own dream?

Lance couldn't answer. He awoke suddenly with a strangled yell, in a pool of his own sweat. Beside him lay Hunk’s vest. He’d obviously thrashed it off in his sleep.

“Is he _actually_ awake this time, or is he just talking again?” Pidge asked.

Lance's body fell into a state of shock in the sudden quiet of the medical bay. He could still hear the rushing water in his ears, feel the jittering exhaustion in his chest. His body was incredibly sore and his legs had fallen asleep again.

“I’m awake,” Lance moaned, shaking his head and hearing the deep cracks in his neck and back. He made a note to himself: never, ever fall asleep on a set of stairs.

“Yep, he's awake.”

Lance bolted up in a panic, and promptly fell over from his unstable legs. He had to stop doing that.

“Hunk," he gasped, trying to keep his voice steady, "I need you to trust me and do what I say. I have a very important favour to ask you.”

Lance scrambled to his feet a second time, trying to give his body more of a moment to wake up and function.

“What? Ok.” Hunk got up from the pod, put his tools back in the box and went over to Lance, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Hunk.” Lance looked at Hunk.

“Yeah.” Hunk looked at Lance.

“Punch me in the face.”

“What? _No_.” Hunk's face contorted, “Why?”

“I need to know that I’m awake.”

“Lance, you're awake, and I am absolutely not going to punch you in the face.”

“Like what about just a _little bit_?” Lance's eyes were wide and strained and desperate. The sudden intense, shaking energy from his friend caught Hunk by surprise. Lance meant it.

Hunk took a few more steps towards Lance and Lance clenched his jaw and braced for impact.

Hunk grabbed Lance by his arms, stared him deeply in the eyes, and then shook him as hard as he could.

“YOU'RE AWAKE, LANCE,” He yelled in his best friend's face.

Lance stepped back, jostled, but somehow happy. He smoothed his hair back into place.

“Thanks, bro.”

“No problem, man.”

Lance and Hunk exchanged a quick fist-bump before Lance took off out of the medical bay for real, without any more of an explanation. At this point, Hunk seemed to have stopped asking for one.

Lance chose to sprint down to the training room as fast as possible. He wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't safe anywhere. Not daytime. Not nighttime. Not anywhere on the ship or even in his own room. Lance had nowhere left to turn. He had one option left for his sanity. He shut his eyes and picked up his pace as he bolted blindly down the main hall to the training room.

He only stopped when he got to the training room door. The light was on, indicating that someone was inside. Lance hesitated for only a fraction of a second. There was no whisper.

He slammed the button and the door slid open. There was no water.

Lance burst into the training room to find Keith mopping himself up with a towel. The practice bot stood drooped in the corner, deactivated. It was now or never. Lance threw himself into the training room without losing his pace from upstairs.

“Keith!” Lance screeched, completely out of breath. “Keith! Please. Listen to me. I need to sleep with you!”

Keith's eyes nearly popped out of his head before his brows furrowed.

“Uh. Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?”

Lance was not taken aback in the slightest. He stomped towards Keith, waving his arms hysterically.

“No, you don't understand! I _need_ you, Keith!”

Keith went very pale, then tried to pretend there wasn't an enormous blush rising in his cheeks, even as he glared at Lance, confusion and indignation evident on his face.

“You're insane, Lance,” He mumbled.

Lance was closing the distance to Keith very quickly.

“Yeah. _I am_ ,” he said, and his tone desperate and dangerous, “I'm _sick_ and I'm _going crazy_ , and _I need you, Keith_.”

Lance grabbed Keith by the shoulders, a crazed determination flashing in his eyes. Keith immediately smacked Lance away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

It stung. That wasn’t the reaction Lance was expecting. Lance rubbed his arm, confused, but not swayed. He made another move towards Keith, and Keith shoved his finger in his face, stopping Lance in his tracks.

“Don't you dare fucking come in here and throw this garbage at me all of a sudden!”

Keith was serious.

“I have put up with SO MUCH of your _shit,_ Lance. I _believed_ you when you said you were sick! I gave you my jacket! I picked up your slack on the team! I went with you to the fucking swamp planet and helped you wander around in circles and after you _puked on my shoes_ , let's not forget, I watched you sleep like a baby all night! AND YOU _BIT_ ME!”

“You keep bringing that up,” said Lance, rolling his eyes.

“BECAUSE YOU FUCKING BIT ME!” Keith screamed.

Keith's arms were now up in the air, matching Lance in exasperated posturing. Lance shook his head fervently. This wasn't the point. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He needed to apologise to Keith. He needed to let help in. Lance grit his teeth and stared Keith in the eye.

“Keith, I’m _sorry_! I’m sorry for everything I’ve said or done while I was sick! I’m dying, Keith! And dying kinda turns you into an asshole!”

“That's not the point, Lance.” Keith folded his arms, unconvinced.

“I was hungry and tired and grumpy and scared and so many things! I wouldn’t have said those things and bit you if I wasn’t sick!”

Lance tried to grab Keith's arms to force Keith to look at him, but Keith pulled away before Lance could reach, and Lance was left awkwardly grasping at air.

“You shouldn’t have said or done them at all,” said Keith, “That’s what I’m getting at. Yeah, you’re sick, but now you’re just blaming everything on being sick.”

“It's the reason I did them!” Lance whined.

“ _I don't ca_ -” Keith stopped himself, suddenly, his eyes narrowing. An idea clearly blossoming in his mind. “Fine. You want to prove you’re sorry?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Lance growled, unable make his voice sound remotely pleasant.

“Rub my feet.”

They both paused, staring at each other.

“What?” Lance blinked.

“Rub my feet, Lance. I just spent the whole morning on the floor. I’m tired. My feet are sore. You want to show me how sorry you are? You can rub my fucking feet.”

Lance's jaw dropped open in disbelief. Keith had just finished training. His feet would be swollen and sweaty and god only knew how they would smell.

"You're not serious," he wheezed.

As if to prove his point, Keith draped his towel quite deliberately over the back of the chair sitting against the training room wall and sat down in it. He grabbed his water bottle from beside it, casually opened it, and took a deep drink. He tapped his feet on the floor expectantly. Lance let out a strangled cry of fury and glared death at Keith.

“That's not getting you forgiven any faster, Lance,” Keith practically sang, “ _You're_ the one that's dying. I have _all day_.”

He was right. Lance was stuck in a terrible place between pride, hygiene and begging for forgiveness. This was it. No backing down. He was going to follow Shiro’s advice and seek Keith’s forgiveness no matter how humiliating it might be. He’d been an asshole. And now he was, quite literally, begging at Keith’s feet.

Lance bit his tongue from swearing and slowly, grudgingly, got down on his knees in front of Keith.

Keith smirked and looked down at him with smug satisfaction as Lance attempted to pry his boot off. It was tight. Lance yanked. Keith sat back in the chair and watched, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Lance jostled and pulled at the tight leather. When the boot finally came off, Lance was practically crying.

“Oh, my _god_ , Keith. _No_. Do you _ever_ take off your boots? Do you even _know_ what a toenail clipper is? No. _No_.”

He still had time to turn back. He could get up and walk away and go jump off a bridge. He could-

“You said you want to be sorry,” Keith chided with cruel glee, “Rub my feet, Lance.”

“I _hate_ you.”

“No you don’t.”

Keith grabbed his water bottle again and slurped especially loudly while Lance grumbled something about life and death situations not being taken seriously and chopping off his hands when he was done.

But slowly, eventually, Lance's voice quieted down as he focused on rubbing his hands into Keith's left foot. It was warm, like the rest of Keith, but not as sweaty as he'd expected. He worked his fingers over Keith's toes. Keith was completely silent. Lance looked up. He'd stopped drinking. He was staring straight forward, his mouth stuck open in a quizzical look. Lance bent down, back to his original task.

It was only after Lance had gotten completely absorbed in his task, and his mind began to wander towards the uncertain future between them that Keith spoke, dragging Lance back into the present.

“Why do you suddenly need me?” Keith's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. “I thought you hated me.”

Lance put down Keith's left foot and picked up the right, slowly working his thumbs into Keith's arch. His mind was scrambling to explain everything that had happened at once, and Lance desperately didn’t want to fuck things up all over again. At least focusing on rubbing Keith's foot allowed Lance a moment to think.

“Look,” Lance started, hesitantly, “The part I didn’t tell you was that back on Dagobah, when you watched me sleep, I had another nightmare. It was the same as always.”

Keith hummed inquisitively.

“And you see, I keep having these horrible dreams where I’m in that swamp, but it’s full of water. And the eyeball monster you killed is still alive. _Every time_ it finds me and it chokes me and drags me under and I think I die in my dream. I don’t know because I usually wake up.”

“Shit…” Keith's expression flickered between pity and fascination.

“But one time. One time. When you stayed awake with me that night, it didn’t happen.”

“The monster didn’t come?”

“No, it did,” Lance's grip on Keith’s foot got momentarily tighter, “But you were there. Beside me. And…”

Lance could feel the words swirling around in his head and impossible to spit out in coherent order. It was embarrassing and he knew Keith was looking down on him and judging him with those dark eyes and it took all of Lance’s willpower to just sit there and rub his feet and talk.

“And I was so jealous and scared. I thought you were there to show me up. In my own dream.”

Lance slowly put Keith's foot down and looked up at him. Keith, to Lance’s surprise, didn’t look cruel or condescending. He simply sat there, silently nodding his acknowledgement.

“Hey Keith,” Lance asked with a sheepish smile, “Would you believe that I’m not as confident as I put forth all the time?”

Keith looked him in the eye. And from his position up on the chair, it was terribly intimidating to Lance.

“Yeah. I would.”

Keith’s expression was deadpan. And then something amazing happened. He sucked in a bunch of air and started wheezing. His face screwed up and he was laughing. Keith threw his head back and sat there, laughing at some hilarious piece of information that Lance was clearly not privy to. He then stood up out of the chair and pushed it aside, settling down against the wall beside Lance.

“Yeah, I know. Everyone knows, dude. Pidge finds it annoying that you can’t just be real, but I’ve always found it kinda… It, like, draws me towards you.”

“Endearing?” Lance offered.

“Yeah, endearing.”

Lance reached over and handed Keith his socks and boots and then leaned back beside him. They sat quietly for a moment before Keith grabbed one of his socks.

“Hey, Lance?” Keith’s voice was very unsure as he rolled up his sock, pausing before he put it on.

“Mm?”

“What if... um, Han Solo wasn't in love with Princess Leia?”

Lance immediately perked up at the mention of his favourite subject of conversation.

“Huh? It would ruin the movies,” he replied without thinking.

“What if, maybe…” Keith was clumsily struggling to put his boot on. His hands kept slipping over the tongue. It was like he couldn’t concentrate. Without thinking, Lance grabbed Keith’s ankle, swinging his body around, and braced it against his chest. Keith gave a forceful shove and his foot was in.

He had nothing else to distract him now, Lance could see. Keith opened his mouth.

“What if he liked Luke Skywalker instead?”

Keith’s eyes were wide and red and Lance could see Keith was trying so hard to find something to do with his hands. He just played with the zipper on his boot, ignoring his other bare foot.

“Lance," said Keith, "I don't really want to fight with you. I don't want to do anything that upsets you. Because I like...”

Keith paused.

“...I mean, I _really_ like...”

Keith was visibly struggling.

“...The way… you... we... work together. As a team.”

Keith looked away from Lance, far across the room, and he looked incredibly disappointed with himself.

Lance bit his lip. Keith was already retreating, visibly shoving all his emotions down into that deep, dark internal tupperware container where Lance knew he stored them.

“Hunk told me.”

Keith froze.

“He didn’t say much. He just said that you… you know, maybe had a thing for, um...”

Lance’s words were lost in Keith’s wide-eyed look. He was captivated by his eyes, the tiny twitch of his nose. Keith was there, right in front of him, looking at him as if nothing in the universe were more important. Lance felt his insides melt. His brain was cotton and his heart was on fire. He should say something important or poetic.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Lance scooted himself up, and in one move, wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him toward him. Keith was still frozen, every muscle in his body tensed in shock. Lance gently cupped Keith's chin and brought his face close to his own. He waited. He was half-expecting, and mostly prepared for Keith to pull away. What he wasn't expecting was for Keith to take the initiative and return his kiss with hungry enthusiasm.

Suddenly, somehow, Keith was swung over his legs and in his lap and his hands were on Lance's face and in his hair exactly like he'd imagined. Keith's nose was pressed against his, and Keith peppered Lance with tiny kisses on his cheeks and on his nose and then, he drew closer and kissed him. Softly, gently, slowly on the lips.

Lance closed his eyes and felt Keith's impossibly long eyelashes flutter on his cheeks. Keith brushed his lips over Lance's, soft and full. Lance could taste his panting breath, Lance couldn't hear anything besides two staggered breaths and two sets of heartbeats thrumming together. As Keith drew back, Lance opened his eyes and really looked at Keith for the first time. His mouth parted for breath, and his eyes, glistening and sparkling. Lance wrapped his hands tighter around Keith's waist. Something about kissing Keith felt tender and really… right.

Holy shit, why hadn’t he tried this before?

“Holy shit, why didn’t I try this before?” Lance whispered.

Keith smiled and shook his head and slid out of Lance's lap and onto the floor beside him. They sat beside each other in silence.

That had just happened. For real.

“Hey, but, um,” Lance started, “I was wondering if… maybe… If like, you would let me sleep in your room sometimes? Not in the same bed or anything! Just on the floor. Maybe.”

Lance experimentally put his hand on top of Keith's, moving to twine their fingers.

“Keith, you keep the nightmares away. I think I need you,” Lance smiled.

Keith looked at Lance's fingers, now interlaced with his own, then up at Lance.

“So… you want me to stay up all night for you every time now?”

Lance chuckled. “I don’t know if that’s how it works.”

Keith continued, “But to keep your nightmares away.”

“Yeah.” Lance squeezed Keith's hand. Keith unwound their fingers and drew his hand away. Lance felt him suddenly tense up.

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Keith sighed heavily before he added, “That’s just not what I wanted. I’m not your babysitter. I want… I need you to like me for _me_. If it’s just always all about you, I don’t know how much I can take.”

Keith pushed himself away from the wall and stood up. Lance felt an icy chill of embarrassment sink down within him. He'd done everything right! He'd apologised! He rubbed his feet! How was Keith rejecting him?

“But that one night on Dagobah, you made my nightmares go away. I didn't drown! You fought off the alien monster inside of me! _I need you_ , Keith.”

Keith refused to look at him. He was gathering his water bottle and his towel.

“I think I’d rather you want me for who I am,” Keith spoke to the training room chair.

“But, Keith! I need you! And you said you were in love with me! Why are you pushing me away?”

“Because you needing me isn't enough of a reason to be with you.” Keith's voice cracked, but he did his best to keep it steady. He was walking towards the door. Lance was in shock. He was going to cry. This couldn't be happening. Lance made to get up, but he couldn't find anything to say. Keith was almost out the door, and Lance was just standing there, mute and gaping.

“Is this... it?” Lance finally croaked.”

“Until you can learn to take responsibility, maybe. Yeah.”

“I thought you were lonely, Keith...” Lance said, utterly defeated.

Keith stopped at the doorway.

“Lance, I've been alone my entire life. I can be alone a little while longer.”

Keith left and shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the beautiful artwork for this chapter!
> 
> I commissioned a piece by the very talented Kelsey Wooley of Lance's nightmare
> 
> <http://artofkelseywooley.tumblr.com/post/155396459710/my-last-commission-for-2016d-this-was-a>
> 
>  
> 
> And then to my surprise another artist did this piece of Lance's petty footrub and I am just in love!
> 
>  
> 
> <https://headspaceartjournal.tumblr.com/post/155742079229/i-dont-ca-keith-stopped-himself-suddenly-his>
> 
>  
> 
> Please go check out their blogs and their art! They are so talented!


	9. LOVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets his shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

Both Lance and Keith ate supper that evening in heavy silence, with Keith at one of of the table and Lance at the other. Lance kept passing glances down the table, past the rest of the crew to Keith, trying to catch his eye, but Keith shielded his face with his hand. He was determined to eat his food without being disturbed.

Hunk was happily chatting away with Pidge, both having felt like they'd made great progress on the med pod that day. Tomorrow they'd have Lance in for a diagnostic test. Lance did his best to feign happiness and relief; after all, his friends had been working all day for him. But all he could focus on, honestly, was Keith.

Lance kept running over their meeting in his head over and over again. Keith was in his lap and kissing him. It was so good, and so right. And then, in an instant, he was cold and distant and walking away. Lance had apologized, hadn't he? That's what Shiro and Hunk told him to do, wasn't it? He was letting help in. What more did Keith want?

It killed Lance to see him like this. Keith was visibly hurt when he abandoned Lance in the training room. It obviously hadn't been easy decision for him to make. Surely Keith _wanted_ to be loved. He was an orphan who'd struggled to make friends at the Garrison. He lived alone in the desert for a year. And he'd chosen to fall for _Lance_ , of all people. He _must_ have been desperate for affection. But Keith was now holding himself off to punish Lance.

Keith was willing to suffer so that Lance would suffer too.

Lance swallowed his food with great difficulty, unable to get Keith out of his mind for the entire meal. How could Keith sit there so calmly and just... chew? Keith's inner determination baffled him. Why couldn't Keith ever just take the easy option like Lance did? He had to make things hard for both of them. Lance swallowed his food and his bitterness.

And then, dinner was over. And the Paladins were free to go about their business until bed.

Bed. Alone.

Again.

Lance cringed. He'd failed. There would be no Keith to protect him. There was going to be nothing but Lance and the monster and another nightmare. Again. He was going to die in that swamp over and over again. Lance was internally screaming and panicking. Another night. Another nightmare. Lance wondered how many more he could take until he started losing touch with reality. After his last dream, he was beginning to fear that it had already started.

Something about Lance's withered expression must have tipped off Hunk. He grabbed Lance by the arm and brought him round to the common room, convincing him to play a game of cards with him and Pidge. Sure, it was a game that gave Pidge all the advantage, but Lance didn't mind losing. It took him away from his nightmares and his sickness and away from Keith.

Lance was so grateful for Hunk. When everything was falling apart, his best friend was there, fighting for him to get better. Whenever Lance sank into one of his moods, Hunk was there to dig him out with laughter and hugs and a solid plan. Pidge ran down a few more plans about the diagnostic test the next day. Lance had the hope for the pod. They were going to figure everything out. It was going to be ok.

He stayed up and hung around with Hunk and Pidge, laughing and joking and desperately doing anything to distract himself from having to face going to sleep again. Eventually Pidge peeled off from their last card game and went back to her room, and Hunk yawned and slapped Lance on the back. He gave his best friend a bone-cracking squeeze and wandered off to his room.

Left alone in the common room, Lance felt the eerie gloom of the empty castle descend upon him again. He stood up. He couldn't risk another nightmare, and frankly, he was tired of falling asleep in terribly uncomfortable places. After wandering a few random hallways and strangely meeting Allura trying to get a drink of water from Shiro's bedroom, Lance inevitably wound up in his room, assessing his options.

Lance stared at his bed. He'd have to do it. He'd have to sleep. And there would be nothing and no one to save him. He failed. He failed at earning Keith's respect and forgiveness. And this was his punishment.

Lance swallowed down his shame. This was the reality of the situation. He was going to fall asleep, and he was going to have a nightmare. It was going to chase him and kill him in his dreams. And he wasn't going to die for real. At least... not yet, anyway.

Lance did what he'd done previously. He turned the heat up in his room, and stripped down naked. He tore the sheets off his bed and threw them on the floor. He drank a glass of water and placed an empty bowl beside his bed for the morning.

And then he remembered Shiro's advice. Lance threw on his boxers and went over to his desk. He sat down and grabbed a pen and some paper. In the pool of pale blueish light that his little desk lamp shone, he tapped his pen to his chin and then started writing.

They weren't really coherent ideas at first, just the first words that came to mind.

Swamp. Nightmare. Monster. ~~Tentick~~ Tentacles.

Fog. Water. Choking.

Words turned into sentences. Sentences turned into paragraphs and lists and drawings. Lance sketched the eye of the monster. It wasn't a very good drawing, but it disturbed him. He crumpled it up and tossed it. He wrote about the feeling of being alone and scared. He wrote about the sinister words the monster whispered to him. He wrote about how he succeeded at escaping the monster by running away. He wrote about Keith.

And when Lance struggled for words to describe Keith beyond “hot” and “angry” he doodled. Leaning back from his desk, Lance decided that he liked how the second drawing came out. It was Jeremy, the little crab. He drew him with a smiling face and a band-aid on his cracked shell. Lance put the drawing up on the wall in his bed cove. He liked the way Jeremy smiled down at him.

Lance had procrastinated all he could. It was time to sleep. Shiro was right, though, Lance thought as he slipped his boxers off and climbed into bed. He felt more centred. He was scared, yes, but his fear was just a heavy brick weighing in the back of his mind and not the searing panic from earlier at dinner.

Lance entered his dream knowingly, with a heavy resignation. He did all he knew how to do. He turned and he ran. He splashed through the endless fog in the swamp and got as far as he could until the monster tripped him and caught him and brought him under, dragging him back to face it. He instinctively fought a bit, but Lance could already feel his will starting to fade. It was always the same. Why bother?

He woke up, of course, in sweat and confusion. His head throbbed and his nausea tugged at his gut. Lance sat himself up and immediately regretted the action. He leaned over the side of the bed and vomited into the bowl, thankful that he'd remembered it. He lay there in his bed in wakeful misery until it was time for everyone to get up.

 

* * *

 

Lance stood in medical bay in his boxers after breakfast. Hunk and Pidge were busy pasting little white plastic monitoring nodes all over Lance's body. It was weird having them on his forehead and chest and the bottoms of his feet.

“And this one goes on your left nutsack!” grinned Pidge, mischievously.

Lance blanched.

“Just kidding!” Pidge added, before Lance could respond. Hunk glared at her and grabbed the node, placing it on Lance's left shoulder blade behind his heart. Pidge went and grabbed a small kit with a cotton swab in a sealed container.

“Open up!” Pidge demanded, shoving the swab in his face. “For real this time, Lance.”

Lance rolled his eyes before he complied and Pidge swabbed the inside of his cheeks, placing the swab in the sealed container and screwing it tightly afterwards.

“So all this is gonna make me better?” Lance asked, hopefully.

“Nope,” Shrugged Hunk, “This is just going to confirm that the machine is working. We tried Pidge last night, and everything seems to be running fine, but since she's already healthy, we're testing you to make sure.”

Lance groaned. How many more nightmares would it take before he was better.

“We'll run this test and see if it tells us you're fine, or if it picks up anything wrong. We tried to set it to be as precise as possible.”

“Well,” said Lance, “If you need someone who's actually injured, Keith still has a bite mark on his hand...”

“Sure, if you can convince him,” Pidge was fiddling with her laptop, playing with their newly designed settings on the pod, “Or we could just give you a paper-cut.”

“Pidge, you are savage and I _do not_ trust you.” Lance glared at her as Hunk pasted a node on his sternum.

“What's this about giving Lance a paper-cut?”

Hunk's head whipped around to the voice coming from the doorway.

“Keith!” Lance's voice shot up and entire octave at the sound of Keith's voice.

Keith walked into the bay and looked Lance up and down, taking in the odd plastic nodes all over his body. And the fact that he was in his boxers.

“I thought I'd come by and see what you guys were up to. Is Lance better yet?” Keith turned and looked at the coils of wire and extra electronics accessorizing the med pod.

“For the millionth time, Keith, no. We haven't even started.” Hunk was about to go shoo Keith out of the bay, but Lance stopped him subtly by the arm. His silent look pleaded at Hunk. Hunk nodded.

Keith was allowed to stay and watch as they finished prepping Lance and the pod. Keith sat on the edge of the stairs where Lance fell asleep not too long ago, staring intently at the whole process. Lance was too glad about Keith's mere presence to be unnerved by Keith's unblinking gaze.

When they were done pasting things onto Lance and booting up the new program, it was time to step into the pod once again.

“So we'll run a few tests with you in there, and when we're done, we'll look at what we have, ok? Just relax and don't fart in the chamber.” Hunk waved at Lance as the door hissed closed. Lance felt the temperature in the pod drop, and his body started to go weightless. And then, nothing.

 

* * *

 

Lance awoke to Hunk and Pidge's faces very close to his own, poking at the glowing readings in front of them on the chamber door. The pod hissed and the door slid away. Lance prepared himself for the disorienting feeling of returning to consciousness and gravity as he stepped down carefully from the threshold. Keith was gone.

Lance felt a lurch of disappointment in his stomach. Maybe Keith didn't really care _that_ mu-

“Is he awake yet? You said four hours, right?” Keith was panting in the medical bay doorway.

“Hey.” Lance waved at Keith, and a plastic node fell off the back of his hand.

“It's fine, you can peel those off and get dressed,” Pidge said, mostly distracted by her computer screen. She was now combing through the reams of data the pod had spat out into her system.

“Maybe I _wanna_ chill in my boxers and feel the sweet breeze!” Lance teased, posing with his hands on his hips.

“Lance, go put your clothes on,” said Shiro as he appeared in the doorway behind Keith, “Pidge, Hunk, what do the results say?”

When Lance pulled his shirt over his head, he saw Allura and Coran had come in behind Shiro and Keith. They all looked at Pidge, who was scrolling through her laptop with an expression of nervous concentration. Lance's heart beat faster and faster the more Pidge scrolled silently. Finally, he couldn't take it any more.

“Is it bad? Pidge, what's wrong with me? Am I dying? For real?”

Pidge sighed and turned the screen around, clearly disappointed.

“It's not bad, Lance. It's... normal. The machine thinks you're healthy. All we could detect was that you have mildly elevated blood pressure, you're slightly anemic, and you have low phosphorus.”

“Oh,” said Lance, tentatively, “Is there a cure?”

“Yeah,” said Hunk, “Eat a banana.”

Eat a banana.The absurdity of the statement smacked Lance.

Lance wanted to scream. He just... WHY? Why was this happening? He tried to take a deep breath and steady himself, but his eye was uncontrollably twitching. He wanted to strangle something. Like the monster. In a blind rage, Lance stomped over and wound up to kick the newly refurbished pod as hard as he could. And he was just about to break something when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and drag him away from doing major damage to the pod.

Lance shouted and swore and pulled at his hair and Shiro pulled him close, muffling his screams in his clothes. He held Lance tightly as his tantrum played out.

“It's ok, Lance. It's only the first test," Shiro said, allowing Lance to beat his fists onto his arms, "We've only just started.”

Lance shoved his face into Shiro's chest and screamed again and again. Months of suppressed rage errupted out of him and the team silently watched as Shiro calmly absorbed Lance's fury. Lance kept his face burried in Shiro's chest. Mostly he just didn't want everyone to see his tears.

“Lance,” said Hunk, after a while, “We'll go over everything again. We're not gonna stop until we solve this.”

Lance nodded into Shiro's chest. He was still heaving, but he was no longer hysterical. It took him a long moment and a few deep breaths to even be able to face the rest of his team-mates. He wiped the snot from his nose on his sleeve and massaged his temples.

“Why can’t you guys just set it to zap every single bacteria inside of me?”

Hunk sighed.

“Because that’s not how biology works, Lance. If we even killed all the bacteria in your _stomach_ , you wouldn’t be able to digest food. You’d die.”

“Besides,” added Shiro, “We don’t even know if it’s bacteria. It could be a virus, and those aren’t even alive.”

“Or it could be, well, cancer," Pidge chimed in, "That’s not a foreign object. That’s just your DNA telling your body to go fuck itself.”

“Pidge. Language.”

Pidge flipped the bird to Shiro without looking at him. Lance just wanted to murder something. Nothing was happening. Nothing was improving. And hearing all this bullshit about biology just made him feel stupid and inadequate.

After a moment, Keith approached Lance and Shiro, hesitant to come between them. When Shiro saw Keith, he released Lance and stepped back. Keith wordlessly grabbed Lance gently by the arm and drew him back from everyone else, walking him towards the bay doors.

“We'll be back later," Keith threw over his shoulder, "Keep working on the pod, you guys.”

Keith kept dragging Lance by the arm out into the hallway and down the main stairs.

“Where are we going?” Lance asked, genuinely curious.

“Training room,” replied Keith.

“Why?”

“You're mad. I can tell,” Keith said, matter-of-factly.

“Congratulations?” Lance was genuinely confused.

They didn't speak until Keith opened the door to the training room and walked them both in. He left Lance in the middle of the room and walked over to the side, digging into a storage closet. When he turned around, Lance saw that Keith had pulled out a couple of old, beaten foam square pads and slid them onto his hands.

“Now,” Keith faced Lance and put his hands up, “Hit me.”

“But I'm sick.”

“I don't care, hit me.”

“You'll think I'm weak.”

“You weren't weak a couple days ago when you sucker-punched me. Hit me, Lance.”

“I thought... when you said _this was it_... you weren't...”

Keith lowered the pads, his expression softening.

“Just because I can't be in love with you right now doesn't mean I'm not your team mate. Or your friend.”

Keith raised the pads in front of his face again.

“Now Lance, I'm gonna tell you one more time. Put up your fisticuffs, and _hit me_.”

Lance didn't need to be told again. With a twinkle in his eye, Lance rolled up his sleeves and quickly feinted Keith out. He went in hard for a left hook.

“Good. Come on.”

Lance moved on his feet, Keith following his every step, and shot a few more quick jabs at Keith's hands.

“Give me more power, Lance. I know you've got it in you. I heard you screaming up there.”

Lance lunged forward and landed a blow directly to Keith's right hand, knocking him a half-step back. Keith let out a low whistle. And again, Lance attacked, all the while battering the pads on Keith's hands. Lance could feel his blood surging in his body. He was nauseous, yes. He was dizzy. But he was also angry. He was _sick_ and _tired_ of _being sick_. And this. This was exciting. This was fun.

Soon, Lance was panting, his breath coming out in hot, heavy heaves. Keith was slipping the pads off his hands, flexing his smarting fingers. Sick or not, Lance was a tough shot. Lance looked at his red knuckles and then at Keith. He felt a wave of gratitude towards Keith for knowing exactly what he needed back in the medical bay.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance huffed, “I really like... the way... we work. As a team.”

Keith smiled at him.

“Gonna rub my feet, Lance?”

“Go fuck yourself, buddy.”

Keith laughed. And Lance laughed with him, and Keith slid the pads back on his hands.

 

* * *

 

That night, Lance kept writing. He wrote about how long the monster was when he and Keith found it on their second visit. He wrote about what changed from dream to dream. He wrote about how deep the water was. He wrote about the water turning into blood.

Lance got into bed. He knew what was coming. He said good night to Jeremy on the wall right before he closed his eyes, and steeled himself for the worst.

The swamp was almost unrecognizable. The fog was there, thick and swirling around him, but the water was different. It was shallow. Barely ankle-deep. Lance's feet stirred the silty water easily when he shifted his weight on the soft, sinking ground.

Something was touching his forehead. And his arm. And all over his body. Startled, Lance looked down. He was in his boxers and covered in the plastic nodes from earlier that day. He peeled a few of them off and tossed them into the water, where they floated for a moment and them slowly sank to the muddy bottom.

At the very least, the monster couldn't hide beneath this little water.

Lance felt a delicate brushing against his foot and adrenaline shot through him. He looked down again. A tiny brown crab with a scratch in its shell was clambering up onto his foot, out of the water.

Jeremy.

Lance reached down and lifted the tiny crab up, cupping him in his hands. He'd protect Jeremy. He promised.

Lance heard a sloshing in the distance behind him. He spun around looking for the source of the noise. Nothing. Then he remembered training with Keith earlier that day and ducked and rolled forward.

It was a fake. The monster's tentacle slammed down behind him, hitting the shallow water where he was just a few second earlier. Lance checked that Jeremy was still in his palms. The crab wrapped its legs around the palm of his left hand, clinging to him. Lance gripped the crab in his fist.

Another tentacle whipped up, out of the corner of Lance's eye, shooting towards him. And then another.

Lance was getting tired. The tentacles were multiplying. More and more shot at him as he ducked and shimmied, barely slipping past their reach. Lance leaped over a low sweep and landed awkwardly in the soft, cushioning mud. He fell to his knees. Lance was trying to recover, but he was caught. The thin rope wrapped itself around his wrist, winding and twisting around his left arm.

Lance tried to let go of Jeremy. The crab wouldn't let go of his hand. The tentacle started to constrict, pulling him by the arm. The monster was pulling Lance back, dragging him towards its thick trunk where the horrific eye was peering at him endlessly on its stalk.

Lance tried to dig his feet into the ground, but there was nothing for him to grip. It was just water and mud, and his legs were cutting a deep trench into the ground as the monster slowly drew him forward. Bring him up, up, close to its terrible, unblinking eye.

“Stop!”

Lance's voice echoed out in the swamp. The tension on his wrist tightened, but the dragging subsided.

“Don't hurt him!”

Lance didn't know what to do. He wanted to fling Jeremy as far as possible into the swamp so he could bury himself in the mud, but Jeremy refused to let go of his hand. The monster raised Lance's arm higher in front of him. Lance was stretched out, long and helpless, hanging from the iron grip of the monster.

Another tentacle came. It slithered along Lance's arm and wrapped around Jeremy in his hand.

“No! Get away from him! I'll keep you safe! I won't let it hurt you!” Lance was screaming, his voice oddly muffled and quiet in the rolling fog.

The tentacle slowly, determinedly pried the tiny crab out of Lance's grasp. Lance could see Jeremy putting up a fight, snapping and pinching at the thick, monstrous black rope twining itself around his body. Lance thrashed from where he hung by his arm, helpless, only able to watch as the monster brought the crab closer to itself.

It peered at the crab, its pupil shifting and dilating in short bursts. And then, Lance saw it bring the crab down. Down to the water level. Down to the mud. The monster's tentacle slowly unfurled from around the crab and it released Jeremy into the water.

Lance watched as Jeremy slid effortlessly into the silt, swimming a short distance, then burying himself invisibly into the mud. Lance breathed a sigh of relief. He could never understand the monster's intentions, he just wanted Jeremy to be safe.

The monster turned its attention back to Lance. He was still hanging by his arm. He knew what was coming now. Lance expected the tentacles to wrap around his body, to tighten and constrict around him until he blacked out.

What he wasn't expecting was for the monster to lower him down slightly, the muscles in its body tensing up. Lance couldn't prepare himself for being flung with deadly force away from the monster, through the swamp fog at breakneck speed. He flew further and further, arcing downward, skimming, ready to hit the water, crash, and die. Lance took a deep breath...

And fell out of bed.

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Pidge continued tirelessly working on the med pod, meticulously combing through problem sets bit by bit. On the second day, they scanned Lance's entire DNA sequence and built a program for optimal health around it. Hunk tried to sway Pidge into entering a few more pounds for Lance's weight. He could use a bit more meat, Hunk rationalized. Pidge chose to just stick with the basics.

On the days when he wasn't being asked to get back into the pod by Hunk or turn his head and cough for Pidge, Lance spent his time in the training room with Keith. When he was feeling well, or just overwhelmed by despair, they'd spar with each other, until Lance was called back to the pod for a checkup. Keith would often pause in their matches and ask if Lance was well enough to continue. Lance had started to develop a bad habit of saying yes and then collapsing in the next round, so Keith learned quickly to draw his own conclusions and cut the intensity down when Lance refused to quit.

Other times, they would fight together against a bot, learning how each other moved and strategized in his own way. Even working at a fraction of his health, Lance enjoyed the challenge and distraction that training with Keith brought him. It gave him something to do. He couldn't sit around waiting to die when he had a task in front of him and Keith beside him.

And sometimes, when they pulled off a brilliant combination move, he would get a high-five from Keith. Maybe even a quick hug. Lance lived for those moments. He'd take as many nightmares as he needed. Day after day. He'd suffer just to be with Keith.

Eventually, when he was too tired or sore to join him, Lance discovered a new hobby in just watching Keith, admiring him from a distance. He'd sit in the training room chair, off to the side with a front row seat to the action. He stopped cheering when Keith told him it was a huge distraction, setting for folding his arms and silently observing. He noticed the way Keith's muscles tensed when he lunged and the way he flicked the sweat from his brow when he was in the heat of the moment. He noticed that Keith moved with a deft grace when he was fully concentrating, his heels barely touching the ground when he ran. Lance felt the last traces of his jealousy towards Keith melt away into warm admiration for his skills and perseverance. Also, Keith had a _fantastic_ butt.

And sometimes Keith would take a break and sip water next to him, leaning against the training room wall. If Lance was lucky, he'd ask more about Star Wars. Somehow they'd gotten onto the subject of prequels, and Lance felt a swell of pride as he regaled Keith about Qui-Gon Jinn and Queen Amidala and Darth Maul.

“So then, after Darth Maul slays Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan goes into a rage and boosts himself up using the force, up over the ledge and just goes ballistic on him! But he never lets his anger fully take over! He gets so close to the dark side, but he remains calm and focused, because that's what Qui-Gon taught him!”

Keith gulped some more water from his bottle, listening to Lance out of the corner of his eye.

“So Obi-Wan slays Darth maul with Qui-Gon's lightsabre, and then they have to wonder after that. They'd killed a Sith Lord: Did they kill the student, _or did they kill the master?_ ”

Keith lowered his water bottle, fascinated. Lance folded his arms with satisfaction at Keith's adorable wonderment.

“Ok. Keith.” Lance slapped his thighs.

“Hmm?”

“Who's your favourite character from Episode I?”

Keith thought for a moment, before folding his towel and tossing it to the ground beside Lance.

“Pod racing.”

“That's not a character!”

Keith shrugged, going back to the training bot to boot up another program.

 

* * *

 

Lance was especially lucky one day when, after taking a nasty fall from the training bot, Keith allowed him to massage his shoulders. It started almost as a joke, really. After Keith got up, he shook himself off and rubbed his neck and Lance couldn't stop his mouth from talking.

“Hey, why don't you let me rub your back instead of your smelly feet?”

Lance laughed, but Keith walked over and wordlessly sat down in front of Lance's chair.

Lance bit his lip. Now he was in for it. He honestly had no idea what he was doing. But he dove in and started pressing down on Keith in front of him experimentally. Guessing as he went. He followed Keith's grunts of soreness and worked the tightness out of his neck with his knuckles and thumbs.

“Jesus, can you use your palms instead of your knuckles?” Keith complained after Lance started working on an especially tight spot.

“I don't know how you're even alive, Keith," Lance chided, "You are literally nothing but knots.” But he slowed his motion and let the warmth and pressure from his hands penetrate Keith's muscles, feeling him loosen up under his touch. keith became quiet. He figured he must be doing something right if Keith wasn't complaining.

He could feel Keith's breathing, now deep and calm under his palms, and Lance drank in the silence between them. Keith's entire body had relaxed against his legs. He trusted Lance. Lance felt butterflies in his stomach. 

Lance gently coaxed Keith's head over to rest on the side on his knee to access his neck, and Keith calmly obeyed. He tenderly stroked Keith's neck and jawline, feeling Keith swallow under his touch. Lance was amazed. Keith was relaxed and actually enjoying what he was doing. Lance wanted to leap up and cheer and shout. But he had Keith in front of him. And Keith wasn't going back to his training. Lance gently traced small circles around Keith's ear. Keith let out a deep sigh.

Lance would do anything to keep Keith with him like this. Just relaxed, peaceful, next to him. This was so much greater than petty fighting or worrying over who was better at what. This was better than winning. Better than needing Keith to solve his nightmares for him.

Lance understood, now. Like sunlight parting through clouds, Lance felt a new clarity within him. Keith wasn't trying to punish him. He was trying to teach him. Keith just wanted to be loved back.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Mm?” Keith mumbled quietly, eyes still closed.

Lance searched for his words. He found it easier to talk when he wove his hands into Keith's hair, massaging his scalp.

“I know you're not ready to forgive me, but I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I said mean things because I’m stressed.”

“Kay.”

“And I said mean things because I’m sick and I'm dumb.”

“Kay.”

“And...” Lance took a deep breath, “I said mean things because I’m an immature asshole and I chose to bully you with my own insecurities and I’m on my knees begging for forgiveness. From my friend. From the guy who has taken my bullshit and still stood by me even when I least deserve it. Keith, I’m sick. And that’s not an excuse. I may be sick, I may be dying, but that is not going to stop me from loving you. I will spend every second I have left trying to make it up to you.”

Lance still had his fingers under Keith's hairline, but he'd forgotten to move them for a while now. He could feel Keith's body stiffen again.

“Keith, I’m an immature asshole and I want… to not be anymore. I want to love you back.”

Keith silently broke away from Lance's hands, swinging forward and standing up. He turned around, grabbing Lance by his wrists, motioning for him to stand as well. Lance did so, not knowing what to expect. He was pushed against the wall from the force of Keith's embrace.

Lance might have been surprised by the sheer force of Keith's kiss, had he not spent the past week watching Keith fight as hard as he did. Keith never did anything in halves, love included. He was shaking in Lance's grip, pushing him up against the wall and Lance was loving every second of it. His arms were around Keith's neck, and Keith's tongue danced on his lips.

And then Keith pulled away, slightly, lowering his head, his hot breath fluttering Lance's collar. Keith rested his forehead on Lance's shoulder, burying his face into Lance's neck. With his arms wrapped around Lance's waist he squeezed especially tightly, sending shivers up Lance's spine.

Lance heard Keith whispering into his collarbone. “Please love me. Please love me. I don’t know what that word means. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don't want you to die. Just please don’t push me away, Lance. Don't push me away.”

Keith was shaking and his breath was shallow. Lance lifted one of his arms and smoothed Keith's hair, petting him. They stood against the wall for a few minutes more. Or an hour. Lance didn't know, and he didn't care.

 

* * *

 

Lance stood in his pajamas in Keith's room with his hands on his hips.

“Keith, I have a question,” said Lance, staring at the one thing in Keith’s room that had always bothered him.

“Yeah?” Keith was taking off his belt and hanging it on a hook.

“Why do you have a chair in your room from the dining hall? And it’s always on its side or facing downward. Is it like, art?”

Keith went over and picked up the chair in a self-conscious gesture, fixing it.

“Um, not really.”

Lance could see Keith momentarily debate what he would say next.

“I put it on me sometimes. I like the way it’s heavy,” Keith shrugged.

Lance was confused. Then he was intrigued.

“So, you just lie there, on the floor, with a chair on you sometimes?”

“Yep,” Keith shrugged, “Feels nice.”

Lance's eyes narrowed.

“Keith, you are so weird. Show me.”

“No.” Keith seemed embarrassed.

But ideas had already started to invade Lance’s mind. He stared at the chair, then at Keith, a smile slowly crossing his lips.

“What about a person?”

Keith’s eyes were like saucers.

Lance motioned Keith towards his bed. Keith nodded and hurriedly climbed in, his excitement palpable.

“Keith, _please_ take your boots off.”

Keith complied and hurriedly took his boots off, accidentally tossing one of them across the room when it refused to slide off easily. He lay down on the bed, arms at his sides, shoeless feet wiggling with anticipation. Lance looked him up and down.

“Ok. So how do you want to do this? Just… on top?”

“Yeah,” Keith breathed, barely able to contain his excitement. Lance could feel Keith shiver as he sat down beside him and Lance gently ran his hands up Keith’s arms. He could feel Keith stiffen under his grip.

“It’s ok, Keith.”

Keith shook his head.

“No, you’re being too light. I hate light touch. It makes me feel gross. Just… press yourself on me.”

Well, what Keith asked for, Lance would provide. Lance swung his leg up, over Keith's body and straddled his new lover. He gently lowered his chest on top of Keith, propping himself up by his elbows. He could feel Keith’s heart pounding in his chest at a feverish rate. And always, Lance was caught by his eyes. His dark eyes watching him back, full of yearning. The trust Keith now placed in Lance was enormous, letting him see and touch his most private self.

Lance had never been a boyfriend before. This was something else. Laying with his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against Keith’s, letting their lips flutter and touch, rubbing their brows together as he drew his nose across Keith’s cheek - Lance could almost forget he was sick. He kissed the tip of Keith’s ear. Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist and let out a quiet little noise just for him.

He could do this. He could really be there for someone. It was exhilarating. Lance let out a deep breath and felt their chests melt into one another, Keith's heart beating against his. Lance settled his hips deeper onto Keith's body and Keith gasped as Lance pressed his face down into Keith's neck, breathing him in, kissing the lobe of his ear. Keith’s arms snaked up around Lance’s neck, holding him tightly to his chest. Lance sighed, letting his breath tickle Keith.

Lance let his mind go as he lay there with Keith. It was exactly like he’d imagined. And it was perfect.

 

* * *

 

“Lance,” Keith whispered.

“Mm?”

Keith patted him on his shoulders.

“Lance, are you... drooling?”

Lance’s embarrassment tore him out of his bleary satisfaction.

“What? No, _no_ , I’m not,” Lance pleaded apologetically.

“My ear is wet,” Keith chuckled.

Oh, god damn it.

Lance pulled back, smiling, and Keith’s face instantly changed from mild amusement to horror.

“Your nose…”

Keith couldn’t get the words out before a droplet of blood hit him on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Lance was already pulling himself up and out of bed as Keith grabbed his shoulder.

“No. Lance. It’s fine. It’s ok.”

Lance could see the stain of his blood smeared on Keith’s ear and down his neck. He felt so ashamed. And, he suddenly realized, bitter. Why couldn’t he have this? Why couldn’t he have one good moment in the hell that was his life? He just wanted one uninterrupted moment of peace. No monsters, no illness, no Galra. Just him and Keith. For just a moment. And he couldn't even have that.

Lance tried to bury his fury as Keith gently cupped his hand under his nose.

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen each other bleed before.”

Keith gently kissed him on the cheek and walked to the bathroom. Lance stayed on the bed, feeling his nose drip.

Lance was sitting on the bed with a wad of tissue up his nose. Keith was wiping the blood off of his neck. There was still the dark stain on his pillow.

Keith followed Lance's eyes, and simply flipped the pillow over. He refused to let his moment be ruined.

“I said you could sleep with me tonight. This doesn't change anything.”

Keith was right. Lance had promised to spend the rest of his health with him. And that meant that things were going to get messy. Lance crawled into Keith’s bed to the far corner and lay himself down on the pillow. Even with a wad of tissue up his nose, Everything smelled like Keith. His earthy, sour smell that Lance realized now that he really liked. It was far nicer than the smell of blood. He breathed in deeply, and met Keith’s eyes, watching him where he stood.

“You can climb in if you want. It’s your bed.”

Keith smiled and gently got in, careful to make as little noise as possible.

“There’s not a lot of room, but I think we can both fit.”

Keith turned over and faced his room, away from Lance. Lance didn’t know what to do. He gently placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder and waited. Keith grabbed his hand and drew it over his body, holding him by his arm.

Oh. Right. _Close_.

Lance was learning fast. He brought his knees up and tucked them into Keith's legs, and suddenly he felt very conscious of contact with Keith's butt. Lance was careful to leave some space. He tightened his grip around Keith’s chest and gave him a squeeze. Keith relaxed into the pressure and let out a soft noise that Lance had never heard before. Fuck. Why did Keith make everything worth it?

Lance was about to let himself drift off when Keith spoke.

“Lance if you don’t press your junk into my butt I’m going to think you don’t love me.”

God damn it.

The gap was a courtesy gap!

 

* * *

 

That night, Lance didn't dream of the monster.

He dreamt of black hair and dark eyes and eternity. He dreamt of home on earth and holding pale-skinned hands and sunsets on the beach. He dreamt of Christmas and sitting on the couch playing video games and sticky cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. He dreamt of movie theatres and skateboarding and a bright red jacket.

For the first time in a long, long time, Lance didn't want to wake up. He wanted to stay asleep in that bed forever.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up the next morning to Keith kissing him. Gently. Running his hands up and down his body, fingers rolling and playing with the folds in his soft pajama T-shirt. He could feel the warmth of Keith's body beside him. Lance couldn't be bothered to care that his one arm had gone completely numb. He refused to open his eyes. This was bliss.

Keith sat up, humming, and started slowly moving down Lance's body.

Oh, wow. No. No way.

Fingers trailed down Lance's chest and Lance's nerves were on fire, suddenly very awake and feeling every little touch. Lance let out a pathetic little mew and Keith chuckled in response. Keith's hands snuck under Lance's shirt and danced their way up. Lance arched his back to let the shirt slide up further, relishing the feeling of cool air on his chest.

“Oh, god. I'm so sorry.”

Lance opened his eyes. Keith's face was in shock. Lance looked down. Running down his abdomen was an enormous, mottled, purple and black bruise. It ran from underneath the waistband of his sweatpants to the top of his chest, spreading angrily out of his abdomen.

Keith ghosted his hands over Lance's stomach.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No?”

It didn't hurt. Badly. Lance touched the mark. He pressed his skin. It was as if he'd had a massive biking accident, with dark blood spreading outward underneath his unbroken skin. The bleeding was internal.

 

Lance began to panic.


	10. STAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

 

What happened?  
  
  
All Lance remembered was falling asleep beside Keith, and dreaming of home and food and Keith and wonderful things. And at some point that night Keith had rolled onto his arm and it went completely numb and Lance didn’t care at all. It made them closer. He finally had Keith.  
  
And he wasn't attacked by the monster that night! He didn't drown! Everything was supposed to be better, damnit. _What was going on?_  
  
Lance tentatively brought his hand up underneath his nose. Dry.  
  
It didn’t make sense.  
  
Lance’s gaze moved past his hand to Keith. He was tired and confused and scared, but that was nothing compared to how Keith looked.  
  
Lance could see Keith slipping into a frozen state of shock. He couldn't take his eyes off of Lance's abdomen. Keith was quickly becoming completely rigid again, and his breath was fast and shallow. Lance's eyes darted between Keith and his stomach. It was... strange looking down at himself, seeing the sudden change in his body from smooth brown skin to angry purple and black. It was all so sudden.  
  
Lance fell back onto the pillow, swimming in his own memory. He was so _happy_ in those dreams. He wanted to make all of them come true for him and Keith. Maybe one day they could land on a planet with a beach and go surfing, or go home and just sit on his family’s couch and cuddle. But they couldn’t. He was dying.  
  
He was dying.  
  
Shit. He might never see his family agai-  
  
“I made you wait...” whispered Keith, ripping Lance out of his own thoughts. His fingers traced gently over the massive bruise on Lance's stomach. He couldn't focus on anything but the hemorrhage.  
  
“I made you wait.” Keith’s voice was cracking, his eyes were red. “I thought we had more time. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.”  
  
Keith was suddenly up, out of the bed and over to the comm system by his door in two easy steps. Lance felt a tiny twinge of jealousy at Keith's grace and his total lack of fainting at such a sudden move. Keith was beautiful. And Lance hadn't been able to do anything sudden like that for months.  
  
Keith switched the comm on to connect to the entire castle. Lance’s stomach dropped.  
  
“You guys, things have changed,” said Keith, his voice agitated, “I need help with Lance. He’s gotten worse-”  
  
Keith heard a giant hissing noise coming from behind him.  
  
“KEITH!” Lance let out a strangled shriek.  
  
Keith cut the communication on the wall and turned to see Lance frantically waving his hands in front of his face. The comm crackled to life. It was Shiro.  
  
“What's wrong, Keith? Where are you?”  
  
Keith raised a questioning eyebrow at Lance. Lance was now biting his fist.  
  
“We're in my bedroom,” Keith answered Shiro, only to hear a high-pitched squeal behind him.  
  
Keith slowly turned back to Lance to see him wide-eyed and red-faced, his jaw dropped open.  
  
“ _Keith_! I'm **in** your _bedroom_!” Lance hissed.  
  
The realisation dawned on Keith. Lance smacked his forehead with his palms.  
  
“Uh, We're in _Lance's_ bedroom!” Keith stuttered, quickly correcting himself.  
  
Lance was shaking his arms in screaming silence. _That’s not any better!_  
  
Keith panicked.  
  
“WE- WE'RE EXACTLY HALFWAY DOWN THE HALL BETWEEN BOTH BEDROOMS!” He shouted, slamming the transmit button off.  
  
“Then how are you calling from your bedroom, Keith?” asked Coran.  
  
Silence hung in the air.  
  
For a long, long time.  
  
“Guys, no one cares that you slept together.” Hunk's voice came through, finally.  
  
Keith paused before he hit the transmit button again, cringing.  
  
“...Is it that obvious?”  
  
Five various “yes” answers resounded through the comm. Keith sighed.  
  
“Nevermind where we are, just get the pod ready and meet us in medical bay.”  
  
Keith shut the comm off and looked at Lance with sheepish embarrassment. Yes, he did just do that. It wasn’t how Lance wanted to officially announce their relationship to the rest of the crew, but what’s done was done.  
  
“Come on, I’ll help you up,” Keith offered, extending his hands to Lance over the bed. He was still scrunching his eyes and breathing heavily from accidentally telling the others that they’d slept together last night; still in shock from discovering Lance’s internal bleeding that morning.  
  
When Keith looked at him, Lance could see that he was on the verge of tears. He hated the way Keith’s eyes pierced him. Lance never wanted to see Keith cry again. He especially didn’t want to be the cause of it. Again.  
  
Lance grabbed Keith by both arms, pulling him down onto his body. Keith braced himself, trying to stop his weight from falling forward and gasped when he landed on Lance's chest. Lance let out a small huff, but his smile remained.  
  
“See? I told you, it doesn't hurt... _that_ bad.”  
  
It was weird. Lance thought he’d be howling in pain, or passing out from blood loss. But his stomach was only tender and all he felt was the ever-present nausea that had plagued him non-stop for months. And at least that was familiar enough to shove down and ignore.  
  
Keith’s body loosened in his grasp a bit. He buried his face in the pillow beside Lance, groaning.  
  
“I should have let you sleep with me when you asked…”  
  
Lance felt a wash of guilt. And then, annoyance. No way Keith was going to take the blame for this. Lance shook his head.  
  
“No. Nope. You know what? I needed that, Keith. I was straight-up _an asshole_ to you for the longest time. I’ve barely even made it up to you now. You… You honestly deserve so much better than me, but through some _miraculous fucking circumstances_ , I got to sleep like a baby next to you last night despite being a royal fucking prick ever since we’ve met.”  
  
Lance could feel Keith squeezing him a little tighter even with his face buried in the pillow. Lance squeezed back..  
  
“And I wouldn’t have even recognised what a giant asshole I’ve been if you hadn’t beaten it through my thick skull. You were right to hold out on me. I mean, it’s too bad we didn’t get to…”  
  
Lance was cut off as Keith suddenly stood up and started pulling him up from the bed, onto his feet.  
  
“Get to what?” Keith asked, motioning for Lance to get up.  
  
Lance shrugged as he stood. He pulled Keith into a hug, leaning his weight onto him and nibbled Keith’s ear. Keith groaned like he was in pain.  
  
“Hey. Hey, Keith, stop it. Don't you dare blame yourself. Yes, you held off from me for a while, but damn it, I needed that. I was a dumb, selfish shit, Keith. It was worth it. Trust me.”  
  
Lance pulled Keith in for a kiss. He felt warm whenever he was near Keith. God, he loved his soft lips.  
  
“And remember what I said? I will spend every second I have left trying to love you. I wasn't lying.”  
  
Keith’s fingers curled around the material of Lance’s T-shirt.  
  
“You say that like you don’t think you’re gonna get better, Lance,” Keith whispered.  
  
Lance’s face dropped. He refused to meet Keith’s eyes, even held in his arms. Even as Keith tried to kiss lips, and then his cheek and Lance kept shifting his face away.  
  
“Keith. I don’t wanna talk about it. Please.”  
  
Keith tried one more time to pull Lance’s face back to look at him. Lance still pushed away, winning their silent battle of wills. Then Keith shrank from Lance entirely. Space. Lance needed his own space. Keith went to go pick up his boots and put them on.  
  
The idea of Lance’s death hung inconsolably between the two boys, and Lance could keep on living and being sane if he could just… ignore it. If he could just have the Keith part without the Death part. That would be nice. That would be okay. Keith zipped up his boots.  
  
“So, it doesn’t hurt?”  
  
“Not... not terribly. Hurt worse when I got blown up, that’s for sure.”  
  
Lance shuddered at the memory. His body still remembered the force of the bomb going off in the Castle’s control room, and the shrapnel from the crystal explosion piercing his body. And Keith. Keith holding him in his arms for the first time.  
  
Lance felt a stabbing pain in his stomach, and his vision blurred for a moment. He shook his head, trying to think of anything else. Suddenly it was very hot and stuffy in Keith’s bedroom. Keith noticed Lance’s agitation and started to motion him towards the door.  
  
“Can you walk the whole way? I should have asked,” said Keith, offering Lance his shoulder.  
  
Lance took him by the hand instead.  
  
“I'm fine, Keith. Well, I'm fine enough. I can walk.”  
  
Lance laced their fingers together, and Keith matched his pace to Lance’s shaky steps. Together they opened the door to find Shiro coming down the hallway towards them.  
  
“Pidge and Hunk are prepping the pod. I didn't know if Lance could walk all the way there.”  
  
Keith looked at Lance.  
  
“I want to make it there myself, but thanks.” Lance nodded at Shiro.  
  
Keith and Shiro hovered close to Lance, but Lance was set and determined. He stood on his own and held himself on his feet. He still held Keith’s hand, but he made sure to show that it was because he wanted to. Not because he needed to. The three of them started off together down the hall.  
  
Around the hallway corner they turned, and up the first set of stairs. Lance slowed down. His footsteps became very deliberate. One in front of the other.  
  
Lance may not have been in deep pain from the bleeding, but he certainly felt it. He was feeling faint and his breath was already heavy only halfway up the stairs. And he was hot. Far too hot in the cool, dry castle air.  
  
Shiro held out his arms in offer. Lance just kept walking. He leaned more heavily on Keith for support, but still slowly, surely making their way to the medical bay. Several times Lance nearly passed out, and he stopped, and Keith stood there, supporting his weight.  
  
Lance noticed Shiro observing the sudden change in relationship between himself and Keith. The bickering was over. Rivalry had gone out the window. And Shiro was glad. He was worried, yes, but every whispered encouragement from Keith, every word of thanks from Lance made Shiro smile out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
Despite all his determination, Lance's pace wavered, and then, a few short paces before they reached medical bay, he finally collapsed in a breathy heap. Sweat shone on his forehead. Nausea creeped in his gut.  
  
“I... think I need that help now.”  
  
Shiro immediately dove down to help Lance and started lifting him under his shoulder, but Lance looked at Keith.  
  
“Buddy?”  
  
Keith looked at Shiro, then over to Lance.  
  
“We'll share,” said Keith.  
  
Lance nodded as Keith and Shiro lifted his weight, supporting his arms over their necks. He must have been light for them. It was no chore carrying Lance between the two of them, and they were off and down the hallway at double the speed of Lance on his own.  
  
“This reminds me of the first time we all met,” Lance chuckled, remembering their escape from the Garrison with Shiro hoisted between them. Shiro smirked at Lance and nodded in agreement.  
  
Then Keith did something amazing. He put on a mocking tone and sneered at Shiro.  
  
“No. Nononono. _I'm_ saving Lance.”  
  
The sheer audacity of Keith’s sudden joke made Lance giddy. He cracked up in laughter, barely able to stay upright. It was perfect. Lance had to join in.  
  
“And _who_ are _you_?” he asked, in utter bewilderment.  
  
Keith's voice pulled a brilliantly nasal tone.  
  
“Uh, the name's _Keith_.”  
  
Lance's laugh turned into a hacking cough. “I do not sound like that!”  
  
Keith continued, his pitch comically elevated. “We were in garrison together! We had classes together! I’m a _fighter_ pilot and you’re a _cargo_ pilot!”  
  
Shiro was equal parts amused and confused.  
  
“I don’t remember any of this. Was this really what happened?”  
  
Lance and Keith both laughed. It made Lance feel better, even as the laughter sent stabs of pain through his abdomen. He was dying, yes. He felt like shit. But when everything was dark and serious, there was always humour; always jokes.  
  
Up the final stair and into medical bay, Lance saw Hunk and Pidge hurriedly working to get the pod ready. Lights were flashing on the wired accessories that Hunk was prodding at and Pidge's fingers flew across her keyboard. They both looked up when Shiro and Keith arrived with Lance in tow.  
  
“Pidge! We're gonna need you to hurry up on that diagnostic program!” Keith said, as Lance broke away from his support. Keith re-offered his arm to Lance, but Lance quietly pushed his hand aside.  
  
“Why? What happened last night?” asked Pidge, before she quickly added, “And please, spare me the details, if you can.”  
  
Lance didn't say anything. He just lifted up his shirt.  
  
“Oh, Jesus,” said Hunk. Pidge visibly shuddered.  
  
“Yeah, so how close are we to getting Lance inside?” asked Keith, impatiently, “I mean, it’s gotta at least see _this_ as not-normal, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” chimed Lance, “Am I finally fucked up enough that it sees something _wrong with me_?”  
  
Lance braced himself against the wall. The pain was getting worse. He refused to fall down in front of everyone.  
  
Pidge wiped her eyes behind her glasses.  
  
“I hope so. We’re just about ready in a minute. You can get undressed.” Pidge went back to her frantic typing.  
  
Lance obeyed and slid his soft cotton pajama T-shirt up and over his head. This was an incredible act of manual dexterity and balance, considering the fact that he felt half like fainting, half like vomiting and half felt like he’d just got stabbed with a knife to his gut.  
  
Keith and Shiro were hovering again. Lance didn’t know how to accept their help. It made him feel weak. More like he was dying. If he took his own clothes off, he was fine. He was still alive. That was enough.  
  
He hated that wrinkle Keith got in his forehead when he was worried.  
  
With a few clumsy attempts, Lance managed to get his shirt off and his pants down without pulling off his boxers. The cool air from medical bay hit his body and Lance felt a small wash of relief from the uncomfortable heat and sweat on his skin.  
  
Hunk stood up from the cords on the pod and turned back to Pidge, nodding.  
  
“We’re good,” He said, “Let’s get Lance in.”  
  
This part, at least, was familiar now. After more than a week of testing; in and out of the med pod; in and out of consciousness, and having lost a strange amount of his life to unmemorable blackness, Lance knew what was coming next.  
  
He climbed into the open pod and turned to face his friends.  
  
“Here’s hoping, guys.” He smiled, weakly.  
  
“Oh!” Pidge let out a small squeak while still looking at her laptop. Keith’s eyes shot to her.  
  
“What? What’s wrong?”  
  
Lance’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“I was going to mention it a few days ago when we redid Lance’s bio-chart, but I got caught up and I… forgot.” Pidge looked at Lance apologetically.  
  
Lance’s heart was thrumming in his chest. He couldn’t handle any mistakes right now.  
  
“What? What did you forget?” Lance was shaking and sweating. He had one foot already out of the pod, ready to abandon ship.  
  
“Nothing bad! Sorry! Just…” Pidge blurted out quickly, “Happy birthday, Lance.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Lance let out the breath stinging his chest. Huh. It was July already? He’d completely lost track in space.  
  
“Yeah,” said Pidge, “It’s July 20th. So, you’re 20 now.”  
  
Lance looked around to see the room slowly relieving itself of the tension. He leaned back in the pod, smiling a little to himself. He’d made it to 20. That was something, wasn’t it?  
  
“Congrats,” said Shiro.  
  
Keith smiled at him as the door closed.  
  
“Yeah! Happy birthday, Crabmeister!” said Hunk just before the door sealed itself shut.  
  
He saw Keith’s mouth move through the clear pane, but those were the last words Lance heard. Crabmeister. What did Hunk mean by that? Something familiar about that word ate at him. Like a long-forgotten childhood memory. Lance felt the temperature drop in the pod, and felt his body start to go weightless. His consciousness faded. Crabmeister…?

 

* * *

  
  
He was floating. He could feel his body; the tips of his fingers and toes existing in weightlessness. Everything was dark. But he was aware.  
  
Strange.  
  
Lance knew he was in the pod. He’d never dreamed in the pod before. It was always nothingness, always empty blackness until he woke up, however later that might be. Hours, days, weeks. Had something gone wrong?  
  
He never _dreamed_ in the pod.  
  
Lance felt a light pressure on his back. Smooth and settling. Shifting, contoured to his body. He was laying down. In warm, shallow, water on a bed of sand. The swamp. He was dreaming of the swamp. It couldn’t be anything else.  
  
He felt so strangely comfortable, laying in the ankle-deep water, the soft sand cushioning him. Maybe he should just wait to die. Let the monster come. Let it take him. Let him die.  
  
Let all of it end.  
  
The water lapped quietly around his ears, his hair gently fanning out into it. Lance breathed deeply, tasting sweet air on his lips. Odd. Instead of hot, choking fog filling his lungs, he felt a cool breeze blow over him, tickling his outstretched toes.  
  
Lance opened his eyes.  
  
There was no fog. There were no trees. There was no horizon.  
  
It was night, and the indigo sky stretched on above him forever with endless, twinkling, unfamiliar stars. Galaxy arms reached overhead in dusty clouds of illumination. Meteors streaked from the heavens.  
  
Lance felt himself struck with awe. How could he possibly dream of something so beautiful?  
  
The expanse of it all shook him to his core. He shivered in the warm water. Lance tilted his head to the side. The stars stretched on endlessly to the horizon, falling seamlessly into the crystal clear water that reflected the sky perfectly.  
  
Only the slightest ripples in the surface sheen and the wetness on his body gave away that he was not simply bathing in the stars themselves.  
  
Lance could lay there forever, watching the endless expanse of space above, the water gently lapping at his sides.  
  
He felt an ache deep within himself at the beauty of his dream.  
  
Lance closed his eyes again.  
  
The ache didn’t go away.  
  
The air was quiet. The stars shone over him, softly illuminating his body in the twilight darkness. This was how he would go. Peacefully. Without a fight. Lance willed himself to slip away into dreamless oblivion, as he squeezed his eyes shut and tensed his back, but instead of darkness, he felt light shining through his closed eyelids. Brighter and brighter. He chanced his eyes open once more.  
  
On the horizon, through the tips of his toes, he saw it. The full moon, rising. Silent and enormous. It was only the upper edge skimming the water, but already its pale illumination reflected spectacularly off the endless shallow ocean.  
  
It hurt to watch the moon. The more it rose, the more its piercing brilliance stung Lance’s eyes. Lance squinted as the white moon emerged higher and higher from the horizon, larger and brighter than any moon he’d ever seen before.  
  
He brought his wet hand up to shield his eyes and felt a sharp stab of pain in his gut. Lance clutched his stomach at the sudden jolt, wiping wet sand down his chest. And he felt it.  
  
The lump.  
  
Lance kept his hand clutched to his stomach as the moon rose higher and higher above him. The ache slowly deepened, a vile pressure from deep inside him.  
  
Again.  
  
Something pulsed inside his stomach. He could feel it under his fingertips.  
  
Lance felt dizzy and faint, as fear and realization collided within him and he was assaulted by another spike of crippling pain; another lurching throb underneath his hand, stemming from deep within his own flesh.  
  
Something was inside of him.  
  
And it wanted out.  
  
“Soon.”  
  
Lance could feel a shifting pulse under his body. The sand undulating beneath his back. The still waters churned and Lance was frozen in pain as the sand stirred all around him and quiet, hissing bubbles rose to the surface of the muddied water.  
  
Thick black tentacles reached up, out of the sand, out of the shallow water and slowly wrapped themselves around his arms and legs and neck.  
  
Tightly, they squeezed him, forcing him down, the water too shallow to drown him, but the heavy, constricting weight stifling Lance.  
  
And still his stomach was in agony. Lance let out a mournful howl as a tentacle brushed his abdomen and the pain sharpened and increased its intensity. Piercing and stabbing. He wrenched his head up, out of the water to see what was happening. To look at himself. And he deeply regretted doing so.  
  
The pulsing lump was visible now. Little mounds from inside of him poking up, and the dark, angry red spreading out from underneath his purple skin. It was inside him. It was getting out by any means.  
  
Lance screamed in pain as the beautiful moon shone overhead and the stars twinkled above in their cold, eerie twilight.  
  
It was coming. It was tearing him open.  
  
The tentacles wrapped tighter around his neck, holding his head down and Lance didn't bother to fight. He couldn’t watch. He couldn’t move. He was doomed to witness the monster inside of him clawing and shredding its way out.  
  
He could feel his skin splitting open. He could see nothing but endless stars and the silent, glowing moon above.  
  
Something was reaching up, out of his abdomen. Crawling, scratching along his chest.  
  
In the silvery halo of the moon overhead, Lance saw the wet and bloody creature clamber its way up, over the tentacles holding down his neck as it snapped its dark and blood-slickened claws.  
  
It was a crab.  
  
Lance saw its shadowy silhouette peak on his chest in the blinding moonlight, reaching its claws toward him, before he was suddenly, thankfully swimming in darkness.

 

* * *

  
  
Lance awoke to three smudged and distorted faces peering at him closely through the med pod door and nearly screamed, the images from his dream far too fresh in his mind. He’d never dreamed in the pod before. He didn’t ever want to again.  
  
“Hey. Lance.”  
  
“How you doing?”  
  
“Are you ok?”  
  
Keith, Pidge and Hunk spoke nearly in unison as the pod hissed open and released Lance into medical bay. Lance flexed his fingers and toes instinctively, testing his upright position and his return to gravity.  
  
He immediately reached down and felt his stomach, and his face and his arms; all in tact. He allowed himself to breathe. He was okay. In fact, he was better than he was before.  
  
“We have good news!” said Pidge.  
  
Lance lifted his hand away from his stomach. The giant bruise was gone. His skin had returned to its smooth, even brown colour all over. He took another deep breath. No blood. No bruising. No stabbing pain. Everything was-  
  
“You should be feeling a lot better now,” said Pidge, “We picked up a massive hemorrhage around your liver and the pod stopped the bleeding and cleared the blood from your system...”  
  
Pidge was saying other things, and Lance consciously registered her mouth moving, but he was still stuck in a numb state of shock. Better? He was better? No. No way.  
  
 “...It also restored your platelet count to healthy levels. You were dipping pretty low, which is why your nosebleeds kept going on and on…”  
  
Shock turned into realisation and realisation turned into a tiny, fluttering joy. He was... fixed! He was cured. The machine must have gotten whatever was wrong with him, his blood, that… crab… out of him.  
  
Lance stepped out of the pod and made brief eye contact with Pidge and Hunk, nodding and saying words of thanks to them, but that was not his purpose. He took two steps towards the arms outstretched in front of him and collided with Keith, kissing him deeply, frantically, feeling the warmth and stability of Keith’s body in his grasp.  
  
“Wow. Okay. You two are in your gross phase. Cool.” Pidge rolled her eyes and shut the pod door.  
  
Hunk coughed and tried to pick up where Pidge left off, doing his best to ignore Keith twirling Lance’s hair between his fingers and Lance’s smitten gazing into Keith’s eyes.  
  
“Now remember, this may not mean you’re _totally cured_ , but we did catch the immediate problem, and the machine no longer thinks there's nothing wrong with you. So that’s a good head start in my book, at least.”  
  
Hunk wiped his brow, looking Lance up and down, and Lance became very aware that he was still in his boxers.  
  
Lance pulled away and noticed that they were all wearing different clothes. Again.  
  
“How long was I in?” Lance asked as Keith handed him a pair of pants.  
  
“Another full 24-hour set,” said Hunk.  
  
Another day lost. Lance briefly wondered, as he dressed himself, what Keith did when he was always in the pod so much. But he shook away the questions. He was out now, and he had Keith now, and they had plenty of time together. They had Galra to defeat and a universe to save. No more crabs-  
  
“Hey,” said Lance, pulling a shirt over his head, “What did you mean by calling me _crabmeister_?”  
  
“What? Oh. Nothing, really,” Hunk shrugged and waved his hand nonchalantly, “You don’t remember, dude? You’re a cancer.”  
  
“Hey, um, _fuck you_ ,” sniffed Lance, highly disappointed in his best friend.  
  
“No, dumbass,” Hunk snorted, “The astrology sign. July 20th.”  
  
“Oh.” Lance’s eyes narrowed, but he was still blushing.  
  
“Crabby cancer. Cardinal water sign. Ruled by the moon. Highly _emotional_ , they say,” teased Hunk.  
  
“Um, _fuck you again_ , but sure.”  
  
Hunk laughed.  
  
“Yeah, it goes back to when we were kids,” Hunk looked over at Keith and Pidge, “One time Lance’s sister got this huge book out of the library because she had a crush on some guy, and we lifted it from her bedroom and looked ourselves up. Lance is a Cancer. I’m a Virgo. Fine details, man, they run my life.”  
  
Keith looked at Lance with mild suspicion. “You’re a crab?”  
  
Lance squeezed Keith’s arm. “Only in my nightmares.”  
  
Keith blinked several times.  
  
“Ha! Oh, god, remember, Lance?” Hunk elbowed him in the ribs, “You also got super mad because you wanted to be a Sagittarius, when you read that your sign was all about domesticity and maternity.”  
  
“Uh, yeah! It was a _fire horse_ and it shoots _fire arrows_! That’s _cool_ , Hunk! Way cooler than a mom-crab!” Lance retorted, the eleven-year-old argument still burning within him somehow.  
  
“Yeah,” said Hunk, having gone back to the pod and unplugging a few connectors here and there, “but then you’d have to be born around Christmas. And combination presents suck.”  
  
Lance let out of huff of derision. “True.”  
  
Then, “Keith, what are you?”  
  
“I dunno,” Keith shrugged.  
  
“When’s your birthday?” asked Hunk, overseeing the final power-down of the med pod.  
  
“November 15th.”  
  
“Ooh, Scorpio. Intense and Sexy. Ruled by the god of war. Nice.” Hunk gave him a thumbs up as re-coiled some of the cables he’d detached from the pod to an external device. “Pidge?”  
  
Pidge raised her hand. “Gemini, though I don’t believe in any of that stuff.”  
  
Lance felt the mixture of giddy happiness and the lingering adrenaline that always trailed behind his more violent nightmares cause his body to shake slightly. He was a crab. A cancer. He dreamed of bloody crabs and moons and violent births because he was a cancer.  
  
He was cured.  
  
  
And he didn’t have to think about it anymore.


	11. VOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE CHAPTER WHERE LITERALLY NOTHING BAD HAPPENS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

“So.. What do you want to do?” asked Keith, his voice easy and calm as they both left medical bay together.

The atmosphere in the castle was significantly lighter and happier than it had been in months. Lance could feel his strength returning to his body as he walked. Unlike yesterday, when he was suffering in a sweaty fog of lethargy and could barely make it up the stairs without passing out, he now had a keen awareness in all of his senses and a subtle bounce in his step. Lance’s infectious optimism had Keith smiling along as well.

Suddenly the castle felt too small for him. Lance needed to stretch his legs.

“I think I wanna leave this place,” Lance sighed, reaching his arms up, over his head, “Just for a little while.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Wanna do it fast?” Keith asked with a grin.

“Yeah.”

The exit chamber in one of the four castle wings depressurized and the hangar door opened. The Red Lion streaked out of the castle and took off with a flare of its propulsion jets. It circled back around the castle once more, its pilot gracefully maneuvering the ship around and between the castle’s tall spires in a cocky show of sport.

After a quick and very necessary display of showing off, Keith finally gunned the engines and took off into deep space, leaving the castle behind as nothing more than a tiny blip on his map display.

The solar system the castle was hiding in was a small one, comprised of only five planets, including an outer gas giant, slowly orbiting a medium-yellow star.

“Where to?” asked Keith, bringing up the scanned data on the five planets, “There’s the one that’s nearby, but it’s not really comfortable. It’s an iceball with not much oxygen. The other one closer to the sun is too hot to land on. Venus or Mars, basically.”

Lance’s face perked up as the ice planet rotated in front of them on Keith’s hologram viewer. It was a beautifully marbled blue and white, with soft clouds dotting its atmosphere. It looked a bit like Earth in the winter.

“That one’s fine. I just want to get out and run along the surface.”

“Suit yourself. It’s pretty cold."

The Red Lion descended towards the planet’s surface and as it entered the atmosphere, the wind picked up, buffeting the ship with a low-pitched groan. Down towards the surface they arced, away from the long, jagged mountain range towards an icy plain covered in wavy drifts of dry snow. Keith steadied his lion and hit the icy ground running. He pushed his ship into the wind and ran, hot claws scraping into the ice, snow flicking against the windshield in the cloud-speckled sunlight.

Keith skidded to a halt suddenly when the wind changed direction and slammed the side of the ship, threatening to overturn it if he didn’t flatten his lion’s body against the ice. If he hadn’t extended Red’s claws deep into the ground, Keith’s ship would’ve started drifting in the heavy gusts. Lance felt a nervous disappointment at their hostile environment. Keith was only getting ideas.

Keith leaned into a turn and they accelerated, running _with_ the wind this time, and suddenly skidding across the top ice, sliding as far as physics would allow when Keith retracted Red’s claws and jammed on the brakes.

When the wind changed direction yet again, they switched to blowing huge snow sprays into the air and using Red’s flamethrower to melt clouds of dry powder into hot steam that froze again almost immediately, watching as a perfectly timed spray produced beautiful rainbows in front of them.

And still they ran around the valley, as fast as they could, and Lance felt the surge of adrenaline that Keith must have felt every time he got in his ship.

It was incredible fun had between the two of them, Lance getting ideas and yelling instructions into Keith’s ear and Keith piloting them both in a reckless joyride. But that wasn’t why Lance came here. He wanted to explore. They kept running through the frozen plains and the holomap showed that they were heading toward the edge of the glacial valley before they hit the mountain range.

“It’s too windy to get out up here,” yelled Keith over his shoulder, “But there’s a huge canyon in the ice coming up ahead! Wanna go down?”

“What is it with you and cliffs?” Lance snorted.

“Too late! I’ll take that as a yes!”

Keith let out a soaring whoop of delight as the Red Lion threw itself off the edge of the ice and plummeted down into the deep fissure in the glacier; leaping and ricocheting off the clear and deep blue compacted ice of the canyon walls.

Near the bottom of the enormous chasm, the wind was little more than a high-pitched whistle far overhead and the sun shone down into the narrow rift in sparkling beams, glinting off the blue ice cliffs and rounded snow drifts.

Red landed with a muted thump in a deep drift of snow, sending powder out in every direction. As the fine particles wafted and settled down, Lance and Keith took in the bright sunlight, and the sudden silence of the windless canyon.

“Can we get out and explore?” asked Lance, eagerly.

Keith pressed a few buttons on the hologram and a chart of data sprang up.

“It’s -10 in the sun, even lower in the shade. So it’s cold, but yeah, you can live without life support and oxygen. You sure you want to, though?” Keith teased, “Wouldn’t you rather be on a beach?”

“Nah. I’ve had enough of swamps and sand and water for a while,” Lance said, wistfully, his voice a little darker than he’d intended, “Ice is fine. Reminds me of Christmas.”

The landing ramp lowered and as he exited the Red Lion, Lance’s visor tinted itself in the glaring sunlight. Cold air hit his nose and mouth and Lance licked his lips, enjoying the refreshing chill tickling his face. The air was thin, but breathable. He didn’t need life support.

Keith skipped past Lance, down the ramp, and immediately kicked into a drift of dry, powdery snow, sending a huge spray forward. Lance was right behind him, ready to stomp foot holes in a planet that had probably never been walked on before.

He caught up with Keith and they both moved out of the shadow of the Red Lion, gazing up, way up, at the tiny circle of sun angling down between two colossal blue walls of ancient ice that slowly curved into the horizon. They stood in awestruck silence for a moment until Keith slipped his fingers into Lance’s hand and quietly whispered, “Hoth.”

Lance squeezed his hand back.

After a short while, Keith had wandered off to investigate an interesting formation of refrozen melt-ice and Lance was happy to just meander in the sunlight and cold air, his rosy cheeks and cloudy breath reviving a familiar nostalgia inside of him.

After traveling up the canyon a bit, away from Keith and Red, Lance was gauging how much sunlight they’d have left to explore when he felt a heavy thump and a shock of wet chill on the back of his neck.

Was it? No. Keith wouldn’t _dare_.

Whump.

Another snowball hit Lance square in the back of his head. Clearly, Keith meant business.

Lance dove behind a snow drift and patted himself a good round of ammo. He shot up expecting Keith to be far away, but when he stood and lifted his head, Keith was nearly over top of him and carrying a massive chunk of compressed snow, ready to dunk on Lance.

“Keith!!”

“It’s the battle of Hoth!” Keith screamed, “The Empire is attacking!” and he chucked the massive hunk of snow down onto Lance where it dissolved upon impact into powdery mess on top of him, and Lance was trapped in cold, fluffy snow and incapacitating laughter. He scooped some of the remnants of snow boulder together and pelted Keith with all he had.

Two to the chest. On on the visor.

“Use the Force, Keith!”

“Lance! Join the Dark Side!”

The boys were shouting, chasing and tackling each other, swooping and rolling in the frigid air and dry snow, their laughter bursting forth in white clouds. Further and further they wandered away from Red, down the canyon, their voices echoing off the walls of the glacial rift and disappearing into the buffeting wind up above.

It was over when Lance finally pushed Keith into a snowdrift, his body making a perfect imprint in the pristine whiteness. Lance threw himself on top of Keith and they wrestled, grainy, powder-dry snow flying everywhere, cloudy breath wafting between the two, until Lance held Keith down and lay on top of him, bodies cushioned by their own imprint in the snowdrift. Keith eventually relented, lowering his arms and relaxing into Lance’s grasp. Lance couldn't help but stare at Keith, at his huge dark eyes and pale face, flushed with exertion.

“I wish I’d known you when I was younger,” Lance spoke after a moment, his voice low and yearning, “We would’ve been amazing friends.”

Keith wiped a drip of melting snow off of Lance’s visor.

“We are amazing friends.”

Lance’s smile was pained.

“I’ve wasted too much time hating you.”

Keith reached up and wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him close, and they lay together, eyes closed, noses touching, until they both shivered with cold.

“Hey,” said Keith, his eyes open and searching the blue sky far above, “Whatever happened to Han Solo after he got frozen in carbonite?”

“Oh,” said Lance, returning from his fantasies to the present, “Like I said, Leia went to go get him out. He was taken to Jabba as a present and displayed on a wall in his palace, but she got caught trying to unfreeze him and Jabba turned her into a slave.”

Lance pulled himself up, off of Keith and extended his hand to help yank Keith out of the body-shaped hole in the snow.

“Aw,” Keith whined in sympathy as Lance lifted him to his feet, “Does she get away?”

Lance dusted the clumps of snow off of his suit.

“Well, Luke shows up to rescue all of them! Leia and Han and Chewie and R2 and 3PO. So Luke comes along and he actually threatens to kill Jabba now that he’s a real Jedi! And Jabba _just laughs at him_ and dumps him into his pet rancor cage. Which is like this giant, nasty alien beast that’s huge and has _these teeth_ and it’s all slobbering on Luke, but Luke has his lightsaber out and he uses the Force and _slays the rancor_ and frees the beautiful twi’lek dancer from the pit. Not as beautiful as slave-Leia, though.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Keith, confused, “Wouldn’t Leia as a slave be all torn and dirty like Shiro was when we found him?”

Lance blushed heavily.

“Yeah. _But_. Ok. Here’s what you don’t understand.”

Lance waved his hands in front of his face, gesticulating curves.

“Keith. She wore this gold _bikini_ … and.. Uh… well, a lotta boys who were my age watching the movies first _saw_ her, and, like, well…”

“Lance, I’m gay.”

“Right. Nevermind.”

Keith continued wandering the canyon beside Lance, nodding along as Lance’s endless run-on sentences painted a vivid picture of his favourite story for both of them.

“But even after slaying the rancor, Jabba is still just laughing at him, like “ _HO HO HOoo_ ”  and he takes Luke prisoner, so then they’re on Jabba’s _floating barge_ , and Leia’s in her _hot golden bikini_ , but Han Solo is still blind and weak from the carbonite, and Jabba is going to _sacrifice them both to the Sarlacc pit_ , which is this huge, vicious mouth-thing in the desert that's like the size of one of those mining pits on the Balmera and-”

“Hey,” Keith interrupted Lance, “What’s that up ahead?”

Lance cut his monologue and looked where Keith was pointing. As they were walking and talking along the canyon floor, kicking snow and throwing dusty snowballs at each other, the two boys came across a giant crack in the glacier, angling itself up through one of the towering walls of blue ice. Lance wiggled his eyebrows at Keith mischievously. Keith returned Lance’s impish grin, and they made their way towards it.

“So then Luke is tied with his hands behind his back, and he’s on the very edge of the plank and everything seems lost and Jabba is still just laughing at him, but Luke has this master plan, with Lando hiding in disguise and R2 ready to go with his lightsabre.” Lance was gesturing wildly, deep in his retelling of the story, “And he says, “This is your last chance! Free us, _or die_!” and of course everyone is laughing at him and nobody believes him-”

“I don’t believe him,” said Keith, “If Han couldn’t get them out, what could Luke do?”

Lance could feel that burning irritation rising again. Why couldn’t Keith just accept how important Luke Skywalker was to Star Wars?

“No, Keith! You don’t understand! He’s a full Jedi now! He’s one of the most _powerful warriors in the universe!_ He’s gonna- Hey. Whoa.”

They’d reached the wall of ice. Inside the crack in the glacier was a massive cavern, hollowed out over thousands of years of ancient melting and freezing.

Lance stepped into the cave and gasped. The cavern went on almost as far as their eyes could see into the hazy distance. Massive clusters of icicle spikes hung far overhead and transparent pillars of frozen ice glinted from floor to ceiling in the low-angled afternoon sunlight.

Keith wandered in behind Lance, his mouth open in awe. Their breath hung in visible puffs around them. Everything was dappled in refracted sunlight and tinted a soft cerulean blue.

  
[Art by JustGalaa](http://justgaala.tumblr.com/)

“It’s like a giant cathedral,” whispered Lance, and even that little noise carried far into the cave, echoing off the high ceiling and smooth, icy floor.

“What an echo!” Keith remarked.

“We’d better be quiet,” joked Lance, “Wouldn’t want to wake the Ice Wampa sleeping at the back of the cave.”

The silence afterward lasted only a moment. Keith stepped in front of Lance and took a deep breath. He let out an exuberant howl, and his voice boomed through the cavern for ages afterward. Lance blinked at Keith twice, then joined him in full force. Their joyful voices rang out together, bouncing along, vibrating the delicate spikes of hanging ice all around them.

“Keith, look out!”

Keith was cut off suddenly when Lance shoved him out of the way. One of the long, deadly icicles cracked and fell from the ceiling right in front of them, its shatter ringing throughout the cave and serving as a warning not to disturb the ice any further. The boys cowered with each other until the cave finally re-settled itself into stillness and silence. Keith breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry I woke the Wampa.”

Lance offered his fist for Keith to bump.

“Why Han, though?” asked Lance, eventually, as he kicked at a few shards from the fallen pillar, watching them skid and slide along the floor, “Why don’t you like Luke Skywalker? He’s so cool!”

Keith shrugged.

Lance continued, “I mean, by all accounts, you should _love him_ , Keith. He’s an awesome hero, he’s an orphan with a goofy haircut, he lived in the desert and he’s a trained fighter pilot who uses a high-tech space sword to fulfil his destiny and save the galaxy!”

“Because, he’s just not-”

“Oh, my god,” Lance gasped, delicately placing his finger on Keith’s mouth, cutting him off as cold realization hit him.

“I have a _type_.”

Keith burst into laughter, ignoring Lance’s finger still on his lip. Lance flushed with embarrassment. Keith’s mouth curved into an awful smirk under Lance’s finger, and he pushed Lance’s hand aside.

“Goofy haircuts and space-swords, huh?”

“Don’t you start!” Lance’s face was bright red, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That’s what gets you going?” Keith raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow at Lance.

“You’ll- never be as- _cool_ as Luke!” Lance sputtered, crossing his arms, trying his hardest to be defensive instead of completely flustered.

“I won’t?” asked Keith, and he seemed genuinely disappointed.

Fuck.

Why did he say that? Why would he tell Keith he was worth less than a fictional character? Fuck. Fuck. Fix it, Lance, fuck.

“Because… Because you’re way cooler!” answered Lance, thinking fast. And it was true, really, goofy haircut and space-sword and all.

Keith smiled, “I thought so,” and Lance could see the blush forming on his cheeks.

A lot of things about Keith suddenly made a lot more sense now.

And new questions were quickly forming in Lance’s mind.

“Hey, Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“Since we both know that I’m an idiot who likes space boys with swords, well…”

Lance took in a deep breath before he continued, and Keith watched him, quietly, waiting.

“I guess I never really thought of it before...” Lance’s voice cracked, “Why _do_ you like me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when did you know you liked me?”

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but Lance cut him off before he could even start.

“Because I know I’m selfish, and rude, and dumb, and I’m a bad pilot, and I’ll definitely never be as good as you, and you’re stronger and faster and a better fighter and… and.. You _care so much_ about everyone on the team, like, you’d _just die for them_ without a second thought and I don’t think I’ll ever be as brave as-”

Lance couldn’t keep talking with Keith kissing him so passionately, suddenly, warm lips covering his own, silencing his self-deprecation. One arm curled around his neck and the other firmly grasped his waist. And Lance was surprised every time, delighted every time, euphoric and eager and drawn closer and closer to Keith every time. He could feel Keith’s hot breath on his cheeks and Lance shut his eyes and let go, unable to feel any sort of cold anymore.

Keith finally relented.

“Shut up. For one second.”

Lance let out a squeak of agreement and then immediately tried to squash that as Keith glared at him. Keith cleared his throat, more for effect than need and Lance kept quiet.

“Lance, I’m not really good at talking about feelings and shit, but… Okay. Just like that. Right there. I like the way you get _excited_ , Lance. You’re passionate. I like the way your face lights up when you talk about the things you get _excited about_ , and the fact that you could talk about them forever. I don't love Star Wars nearly as much as you do, but _I love_ the way _you love_ Star Wars.”

Lance felt his stomach sinking, and his head going light and fuzzy. Keith was saying nice things about him. How could Keith say such nice things about him? Every positive word set his heart on fire. He should say something equally profound and poetic in return, as thanks!

“I fucking love Star Wars,” Lance whispered. Keith pecked his cheek.

“And don’t give me that bullshit about not being dedicated to the team,” said Keith, stroking Lance’s chin, “You’ve been d- _sick_ for four months now, and you’re _still_ a team player saving the universe with everyone else. You lift everyone else up.”

Keith had his arms on Lance’s shoulders, he was staring at Lance with that intensity Lance could never match. Lance was shaking. He wanted to cry.

“But,” choked Lance, “I’m better now.”

Keith looked Lance up and down. He wasn’t exactly convinced.

“I’m better, Keith. I’m healthy. _I have to be better_.”

Why did his voice sound so angry? Keith was obviously disturbed by it, holding Lance at arm’s length. Lance could feel his rage and shame bubbling up despite every effort to push it down.

“Lance. Remember what Hunk said? You might not be totally cured-”

Why were they talking about this? This was supposed to be fun! He was away from the castle. Away from the med pod and his dreams and the monster. Why did Keith have to drag him kicking and screaming into reality?

“No! I have to be better!” Lance shouted, pushing Keith’s arms away, “Keith! I can’t do it! I can’t. I can’t keep being sick. You have no idea. This is it. I have to be better. I’m better. Just shut up. I’m better, okay?”

Keith was wide-eyed and silent, Lance could see the thoughts running through Keith’s mind. Already, Keith was trying to process what he did wrong, what made Lance turn so suddenly from humour to viciousness. Keith’s grip loosened. Guilt washed over both of them, and Lance’s shoulders sank from their defensive pose.

“I’m… sorry. I hate talking about it. I hate thinking about it.”

Keith offered a silent apology, wrapping his arms around Lance, and Lance accepted the hug, pushing back his tears and anguish.

“Lance…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just glad you chose to spend your time with me.”

Lance knew what Keith was saying in those last words. Neither of them knew how much time Lance had left. The truth wrenched at his gut. It pierced him, penetrated him to his very core. Lance hugged Keith tightly, letting his head rest on Keith’s shoulder.

“It was the best choice I’ve ever made.”

 

* * *

 

Lance took Keith by the hand and led him further into the cave and they wandered aimlessly around the ice cavern, through the glassy frozen pillars and up to a crop of rounded ice-stools near a sloping wall.

“See?” said Lance, his joyful optimism having certainly returned, “It’s just like the cathedrals from when I was a kid! Here are the pews, and this hanging glob-thing over here is a sconce. And way over there, that squiggly hunk of ice is the organ, and over here, you see, is the altar,” Lance panned his arms around the cavern, showing Keith the imaginary features of the church, “We must’ve just missed mass.”

Keith tried following Lance’s vision, “I didn’t know you were…”

“Catholic?” Lance grinned, “Not really, but my family is. I was just there for my mom... and getting to try wine when I was a kid.”

Keith let out a low whistle, now starting to see what Lance saw in the abstract shapes of ice. The sunlight filtered down from the translucent ceiling and cast a rippling glow all around them. The place just seemed… spiritual.

“Do I have to pray?” asked Keith, tentatively.

“Not if you don’t want to. Everyone is welcome in the house of God!” Lance waved his arm around the cave, imagining visitors and clergy going about their business.

“No,” Keith shook his head, “I do. Show me how.”

“There isn’t much to show,” shrugged Lance, “You just kinda... put your hands together and close your eyes and ask for what you want.”

Lance took a seat on the ice stool, closing his eyes and mimicking the memory of his mother in church.

“Who do I pray to?” asked Keith, “God?”

“Yeah,” nodded Lance, “Or Mary. Or maybe a saint if you have a specific thing. There’s tons of them. Like Saint Anthony if you lost your keys, or Saint Elmo if you’re feeling sick.”

Lance pursed his lips and rubbed his chin, trying to dredge up old childhood memories.

“Although, I _think_ he might only apply to sick kids. My mom said I was really colicey when I was a baby.”

“Actually…” Keith spoke before trailing off. He went quiet for a moment. Lance stopped trying to remember religious trivia.

“What about forgiveness?” asked Keith.

Odd. Lance thought it would have to do with… the thing he didn’t want to think about. But maybe Keith was humouring him. Changing the subject.

“Anyone, really. Though if you wanted to choose, I guess Mary Magdalene?”

“Isn’t that Jesus’ mom?” asked Keith.

“No, that’s the Virgin Mary. Mary Magdalene was the prostitute who-”

“I’m praying to a hooker? -Hey!”

Lance jabbed his finger in Keith’s cheek.

“Look, Keith, I don’t make this stuff up. She’s the saint of repentant sinners and forgiveness. If you feel like you did something bad, you go ahead and ask the nice lady to forgive you. What she does for a living ain’t your business.”

Keith rolled his eyes and nipped at Lance’s finger, which quickly retreated out of disgust.

“Fine, fine, I’m praying to her. Just get out of my face.”

Keith swatted at Lance’s hand, and he relented, watching as Keith settled himself on the ice stool beside him. Keith relaxed his posture and clasped his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and was silent.

Lance watched in quiet reflection as Keith’s eyes twitched under his eyelids, and his brow furrowed with strain. What was he asking forgiveness for?

Lance felt a heavy weight in his chest, dragging him back to his own problems. He was honestly the one who needed to be forgiven for treating Keith so badly for so long.

Keith was clenching his fingers together. His jaw was set and rigid. He didn’t look contemplative, he looked like he was in pain. Lance was so tempted to put a hand on him, somewhere, anywhere, to let him know that he didn’t have to try this hard. But this was Keith’s moment. And whatever was needed, Lance would let it pass.

Soon enough, Keith’s breath returned to normal, white puffs escaping from both of them in easy rhythm. Lance relaxed his arm, his hovering hand quietly returned to his side.

“Do you feel better?” Lance asked, once Keith had opened his eyes again.

Keith looked away from him. “Not really, no.”

“Well, you tried, anyway.” Lance nudged Keith with his knee.

“I was hoping I’d be able to… tell. Like, if I was forgiven.”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Lance, “It’s why I stopped going.”

Lance shrugged, looking up, beyond the icicle-spiked ceiling to a far-off place, in a distant galaxy, back on Earth, “I guess you’re just supposed to decide for yourself whether what you did is worth forgiving, and then try to earn it.”

Keith’s eyes were on him again.

“That’s actually pretty wise, Lance.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were walking again, Lance noticed. Keith had taken his hand and they were walking towards the pool of dappled sunlight shining on the raised slab of ice that Lance had christened as the altar.

“So, what I was saying before,” said Keith, before Lance interrupted him again.

“About what?”

“Lance! _Shut up_!”

“Shutting up now.”

“You asked me when I knew I liked you,” said Keith.

“Oh _ye_ -” Lance cut himself off, choking down the noise. Keith waited an extra moment for Lance. Lance was sure he’d gotten it all out of his system.

“I realized, actually a lot later, that I liked you back when we first met again. It was when you walked into that cave in the desert, right into the Blue Lion. Honestly, I was just as jealous of you as you’d been of me. I’d been searching for that lion for a year and you just fucking waltzed right in and turned it on. I was so mad, Lance, you have no idea-”

“I had _some_ idea.”

Lance admitted that he kinda deserved that quick elbow to the ribs.

“And then later on I realised that you had what I’d always wanted. Freedom. And power. But then we both became paladins and pilots of our own lions together.”

Lance’s zipped mouth was wiggling and he was trying his best to suppress a whine of protest.

“Ok. Talk.”

“But now we can both form Voltron! We work as a team! All of us!”

Keith smiled, “All of us. We wouldn’t have a leg to stand on without you.”

“You’d have Hunk.”

“Yeah, but you can’t walk with one leg,” Keith pointed out.

“I dunno…” Lance shrugged, “I’m sure if something happened to me, you’d be able to find a replacement…”

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Lance.”

Lance didn’t say anything.

“I like learning about you and training with you,” Keith continued, “And you know, It was weird how you seemed to already know so much about me from our time at the Garrison. I’m sorry, Lance, but back then I had absolutely no idea you existed. I was so bad at making friends, I just focused on my studies and piloting.”

Lance could hear a twinge of regret in Keith’s voice.

“You just seemed too cool to want to hang out with somebody like me.”

Keith laughed, looking at Lance with those dark eyes. That yearning.

“I think I’m the least cool person out there. I didn’t really have any friends.”

“Yeah, but you had girls all over you!” Lance remembered his bitter, infuriating jealousy towards Keith from little more than a year ago. Every time he climbed out of the simulator, Keith always was swarmed with fans, lower level cadets who idolized him, wanted him as their mentor, or something else. Keith was a prodigy. He always completed his training missions flawlessly, effortlessly. Keith never had to struggle. Not for success, not for attention. Not like Lance.

“Yeah, that was just... weird and awkward.” Keith wiped his eyes, his face flushed with embarrassment, “I didn’t know what they wanted from me. Then of course, I realised...”

“Gay.”

“Yup.” Keith shrugged and slapped Lance on the ass. Lance was taken by surprise, turning back to see Keith grinning once again. He could still feel that strike on his body, a tingling sensation lingering within him far longer than Keith’s hand was there.

“So then when Shiro came back, you came crashing into my life, and you’re loud and excited and annoying and the most irritating person I’ve ever met-”

“ _Thanks._ ”

Keith brought Lance around to stand in front of him. His smile was warm and genuine.

“And I want to be blown away by your energy every day.”

Oh.

Lance looked around. They were standing in front of the ice altar. The setting sun was shining through the entrance crack and casting a warm, brilliant golden glow around the room. They stood before it, hand in hand. Lance looked at the way the sun hit Keith’s face, and his vulnerable smile as Keith looked Lance in the eyes, and his mouth went dry and his stomach tightened and he just wanted to stand there forever in the freezing cold, holding Keith’s hand.

“What are you thinking?” asked Lance.

“Oh. Nothing.”

Keith leaned into Lance, and Lance could tell that he wanted to say something. But he was struggling. Everything was happening so fast, and yet in this moment, time felt like it was going in slow motion. Keith held his hand, squeezing it occasionally. Lance let Keith have his silence.

They stood with each other, in deep silence, and Lance felt something happen between them, though what it was, he couldn’t say. He’d never been in love before. He’d never been dying before. It was a lot to handle all at once. The only thing Lance knew, was that he wanted Keith around. And neither of them needed to say anything at all.

The sun’s last light flared a brilliant orange-red, filling the ice cathedral with a brief, radiant glow, and then dipped beyond the horizon. Lance and Keith were left standing in the darkening ice cave, the temperature rapidly dropping.

“Let’s go before it gets really cold,” said Lance, a shiver rolling up his spine, “I don’t want to spend the night on this planet outside.”

“Lance...” Keith gripped his hand, refusing to move just yet.

Lance nodded. It was real. What happened was real, and he’d never deny it. He looked back at Keith, the sharp, beautifully angled features of his face growing darker in the receding daylight and pulled Keith towards him.

They walked toward the entrance of the cave together, the last red-purple glow of daylight illuminating their way out.

 

* * *

 

 

Only a few paces out of the cave, the sky was already becoming a cloudless inky black wash dotted with stars. Lance and Keith walked in hushed silence, keeping warm by increasing their pace, the only sound the muted scrunching of dry snow under their boots.

There was no moon on this planet, and the night was incredibly dark. The lights from their helmets shone in small pools a few feet in front of them, and Keith guided them both back to Red, following that same tug of warmth and connection that Lance felt with Blue. Two sets of footsteps disturbed the snow in a straight line from up the canyon back to the ship.

They couldn’t hear the whine of wind from up above the cliffs. It must have died down when the sun set, but the temperature was still dropping, from a bearable negative to a deep and biting cold. Lance and keith sealed their helmets and walked with heat and life support on, working their bodies through the knee-deep snow.

“God, I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” groaned Lance.

“We’re almost there,” said Keith, trudging on ahead of him.

They entered the Red Lion just as the sweat was starting to cool on Lance’s body and goosebumps ran up and down his arms and legs. He was tired, and sore, and as always, nauseous. But He’d never felt more alive. What a day. Lance tried to think back to the last time he’d spent an entire day just playing and having fun with friends. Not since he joined Garrison. This was special. All he needed was a hot dinner to end it all perfectly.

That was odd. Why weren't the lights coming on and the dash booting up right away? Blue always responded so quickly to Lance's presence.

“Keith, it’s freezing in here.”

Lance was rubbing his shoulders, regretting that he’d shut off his life support as soon as he entered the ship.

“Yeah, I know,” said Keith shuffling past Lance and into the cockpit, “Come on, Red, let’s go. Let’s get some life support going.”

Nothing happened.

“Red?” asked Lance, poking at the dashboard.

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” Keith growled, pressing various buttons on his dash to no effect.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lance.

“She’s mad because we left her out in the cold. Says her systems froze over. Which is a _LIE_.”

Keith banged on the dashboard in the cockpit. Lights flickered on, and heat started pumping into the cabin. A lot of it.

“If you’re still cold, there’s emergency blankets in the first aid panel," Keith gestured to a metal pane near the back of the cabin, "But I don’t think that’ll be an issue…”

Heat was now pouring in from every vent as Red revved her engines dramatically, as if to prove a point.

“Very funny,” grumbled Keith, taking off his helmet and flicking his wet hair. Droplets of sweat mixed with melting ice hit Lance in the face, their salty sting grazing the edge of his mouth. Lance licked his lips in spite of himself.

The cabin was quickly warmed to uncomfortable levels. Lance was already sweating. His fingers slipped under the latch and his white chestplate fell away onto the floor as Keith’s lion purred into action.

Lance watched Keith drop his own chestplate and gloves with reckless abandon, throwing more tiny droplets of icy water around as he stripped his legplates and they landed with a clatter on the cabin floor.

“Cut it out, Red. I know what you’re doing,” said Keith as he tossed his last glove and wiped the back of his neck, throwing his wet hair out of the way. Lance felt himself mesmerised by the action, and he desperately hoped Keith didn’t catch him staring, though he had a suspicion that Keith already knew. He needed a ruse.

“Hey. What time is it?” asked Lance.

Bingo.

With Keith already stripped down to his black undersuit, Lance couldn't help but follow the clean arc of Keith’s back to his broad shoulders as he leaned over the controls. Lance's stomach stirred, and it wasn’t nausea. Keith glanced at the clock.

“We have about two hours until dinner. Allura is expecting us back before then,” replied Keith, before suddenly banging on the dash again, “Red! I’m not gonna-”

“Hey, that’s still two hours,” interrupted Lance, “Want to fly around until then?”

“Yeah, sure, if she’ll let us.” Keith rolled his eyes and glared out the windshield of his Lion.

There was a low rumbling from deep in the engines.

“She’s laughing at us,” said Keith, folding his arms.

“Ok, Red. We get it. We’re sorry," said Lance, desperately attempting to placate the moody spacecraft, "Please! We’re roasting in here!”

The heat and power suddenly shut off.

“Oh, _come on!_ ” whined Lance and Keith in unison.

Keith slipped past him to the back of the cabin and opened up the first aid panel, grabbing two emergency blankets and handing one to Lance.

“That’s Red for you, buddy. Allura was only half-right. “Stubborn and temperamental” doesn’t begin to cover it.” Keith slammed the first aid panel closed.

Lance wrapped the thick woolen blanket around himself, shivering and debating whether or not to put all of his armor back on and start up life support.

“Is she seriously just going to sit there with the power off?” he asked.

He was already tired, and sore, and he felt so much lighter without the armor...

“I have no idea,” shrugged Keith, “She does whatever she wants.”

Keith walked back to the cockpit and flopped down in the pilot’s seat, waiting. Lance followed him, watching. Even when he was at his most grudging, Keith's muscular body draped beautifully over the chair, one long leg hanging gracefully over the accelerator control. Lance looked out the windshield at the barely visible silver sheen of snow on the ground outside, and the softly accumulating white flakes on Red’s nose.

What was he supposed to do?

“Well, if we’re sitting in the cold, can I sit with you?” asked Lance, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah.”

Keith sat up in the pilot seat and Lance climbed into his lap, wrapping the warm grey blanket around both of them. Lance curled his six-foot body up as best he could and rested his head next to Keith’s, gripping the blanket that covered both of them. Fortunately for him, Keith was a furnace in his own right, and Lance didn’t have to think twice about putting his sweaty armor back on. It was a pleasure all on its own just to feel Keith’s heartbeat drumming in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against the whistle of icy wind outside. Keith rubbed Lance’s face with his cheek.

And they sat, still waiting for Red to make up her mind.

Snow fell on the windshield outside. They could hear the wind pick up slightly above. But other than that, silence. Silence, and serene darkness.

They waited together, eyes tempted to close.

At some point the heat came back on, but neither Lance nor Keith had noticed until once again sweat was forming on their brows.

Keith urged Lance off of his chest and Lance pulled back in his lap. Keith unzipped the connective band around his waist, slipping his shirt up, over his head, revealing his bare and smooth chest. Keith was shirtless. Just like in Lance’s dream. Except...

“Look at that bruise on you! Got you good with the snowballs!” Lance pointed to a yellow-brown blotch on Keith’s left breast, the size of a golf ball and almost perfectly round.

Keith looked down Lance’s finger and chuckled.

“Oh, like you got out of there spotless, chump. Let’s see!”

Challenge accepted. Lance shuffled the blanket off of himself and unzipped his own suit, sliding the black top up and heaving it off of his shoulders.

“Hah! You too, Lance!”

Lance looked down at his chest, a bright pink patch stretching from his abdominal muscles diagonally up to his ribs was angrily turning red and brown.

“This little thing?” smiled Lance coquettishly, “That’s nothing, Red. Look at yourself. See? There. And there...”

Lance poked and prodded at each of Keith’s bruises on his chest, and an unspoken contest began between the two of whether Lance could get any reaction out of Keith or if Keith could grin and bear Lance at his most irritating best.

“Aaand there’s another one forming here…” Lance poked Keith’s bicep.

“You already got that one,” said Keith.

“Maybe I just wanted another try.” Lance winked and went back to Keith’s arm, giving his muscle a squeeze, “See, I’m making it worse! So I’m winning!”

“No, you’re not!”

Keith shifted Lance in his lap, and Lance felt electric sparks shooting through him. The shock of feeling Keith's moving body underneath him threw Lance off balance and he started to fall backwards. Lance gripped Keith’s arm hard on the bruise to stay in his lap and Keith gasped in pain.

“Careful, Luke Skywalker,” hissed Keith, “You’ll slip out of the chair.”

Keith reaffirmed his grip on Lance and pulled him closer.

“I won!” gasped Lance.

“What?”

“You cried out!” squealed Lance, excitedly.

“That’s because you grabbed me by the bruise!” Keith grumbled, and yet he was still holding Lance in his lap, his hand still sliding up and down Lance’s back. Lance shivered in Keith’s arms and he knew Keith could feel it. He looked at Keith.

“I’m pretty sure, in this case, you’re Luke Skywalker.”

Keith chuckled, that mischievous smirk back on his face.

“What? You mean with my goofy haircut and space-sword?”

“Yes.”

“And my piloting skills and living in the desert?”

“Yes.”

“Why, _Lance_ , I can't believe that you’d be attracted to _that_ , huh? That’s what does it for you? Space boys? That’s what you want?”

Lance got really quiet, his warm blush delicately pressed against Keith’s cheek. He tucked his head and whispered into Keith’s ear.

“Yes.”

This time, Lance could feel Keith shiver, and the power he had over Keith was threatening to consume him. Keith, rolled his head back, shut his eyes and swallowed deeply, his exposed neck urging Lance to kiss it.

Before Lance got the opportunity however, Keith spoke, his voice a low and husky growl.

“Lance, do me a favour.”

“Yeah?” Lance breathed.

“Lean over and kill that switch behind you on the dash. Your lower right.”

Lance looked over his shoulder.

“You want the radio off?”

  
“I want the radio off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone linked this to me in the comments.
> 
> <https://youtu.be/YF6jADQ4ozY>
> 
> Yes, this video of Andy Dwyer is exactly how Lance tells his stories. 100%.


	12. MOURN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.
> 
> Also, regarding the last scene: I made it deliberately interpretable. If you want to believe that sex happened, then it did. If you want to believe that Lance and Keith are asexual, there’s enough plausibility to believe they just fell asleep together. Enjoy it how you like.

“Lance.”

It was Keith’s voice that brought him back from blissful, dreamless sleep.

“Hey… Are you awake?”

Slowly, Lance became aware of his body. He could feel warmth on his legs and on his side. He was sitting, leaning, pressed against another body, skin stuck to naked skin and something rough and woolen, a blanket, was wrapped around his waist. The air was thick and humid and smelled like breath and sweat. Lance ignored his numb feet and aching, crooked neck in favour of the feeling of his chest pressed against Keith’s heartbeat. He wanted to fall back into oblivion and never wake up.

“Fuck. How do I do this?”

He was in Keith’s lap. He’d fallen asleep. And, he realized, he hadn’t dreamt of monsters. Lance was so grateful. He didn’t know how, or why, and he didn’t care. Just being next to Keith prevented his nightmares. Maybe he was selfish for that reasoning. He’d admit it. But he’d spend every night next to Keith if he needed to for the rest of his life.

What was Keith saying? Do what?

Keith had stopped shaking him slightly, stopped testing to see if Lance was awake. Lance was about to respond, about to yawn and stretch and ask what time it was in hazy and satisfied greeting, but Keith continued, his voice strained with worry. Lance held still and listened.

“This is all my fault. This is all my fucking fault.”

What?

“I killed you.”

_What?_

“I’m so fucking sorry, Lance. I didn’t know what would happen when I attacked that monster in the swamp. I didn’t think. I mean, I _thought_ I was saving you. And then all this… bullshit happened. I prayed, Lance. I asked Mary to forgive me. I prayed so fucking hard for all of this to just _be over_...”

Keith was touching him. Not the arm wrapped around his back, embracing him, safely keeping him tethered to Keith’s lap, no. It was the other hand, and it was gingerly tracing five callused fingers over his abdomen.

“Fuck. I knew it. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to believe you were better.”

But, he was better. He _was_ better.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Lance. Please don’t die on me tonight.”

No.

Please.

No.

Before he opened his eyes or pulled his head away from the crook of Keith’s neck, Lance brought his arm up to meet Keith’s, grasping his hand as it rested on his stomach. He could feel the warmth of Keith’s palm radiating under his skin and it was the familiarity and comfort of that touch that Lance was starting to feel like he couldn’t live without.

Realising that Lance was awake, Keith jerked his arm in surprise, but Lance held it, drawing it back to him, pressing his palm gently back onto his exposed skin. He rubbed his fingers through Keith’s knuckles, swirling the knotted skin and tracing the fine bones in his hand. He wanted to stay like this, and go back to sleep and pretend that nothing bad would ever happen again.

Keith had stopped whispering to himself.

Lance opened his sleepy eyes and began to absorb the expression of utter bewilderment and worry on Keith’s face. His vision was still adjusting to the dim glow of the cockpit. The only light available was from the tiny red auxiliary lights circled around the pilot’s seat and the dim glow of the holoscreen on the dashboard. He could see the line of strain on Keith’s forehead deepened by the shadows cast on his face.

“Lance. It… again.”

It hurt to hear Keith’s voice break. It hurt to see his lover so distressed. Lance looked down.

His stomach was streaked with black.

The bruise that he and Keith had carelessly made fun of earlier was growing into another angry, dark and mottled stain under his skin. It was smaller than the first time Keith found him the other morning, but they both knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. It was already spreading.

“It’s me, isn’t it,” said Keith, in a dangerously self-implicating monotone as he gently touched the visible areas of Lance’s internal bleeding.

“I’m killing you.”

He really believed it, didn’t he? Lance took in Keith’s tired eyes, and saw the tiny bead of clear liquid forming on the inner edge of his lower lid. Keith blinked, and the hot tear splashed onto Lance’s chest.

“No. Keith.”

Beautiful, selfless idiot. He blamed himself.

“I killed that monster, and now, the closer I get to you, the more I touch you... You just hurt and _suffer_. It’s me, isn’t it?”

Was it true? Lance had no idea. He was sick all the time. Nauseous and vomiting and fainting whether Keith was around or not. It couldn’t be true. It didn’t feel true. And he didn’t want it to be true. Not for a second. And if it _were_ true, what was the solution? Staying away from Keith until he slowly died a painful death? He’d rather just kill himself now.

“I don’t think that’s it, Keith.”

He tried to sound soft, gentle, secure. Still alive.

“THEN WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!?”

Lance wasn’t prepared for the screaming sobs coming out of Keith now, or being crushed in his arms, Keith’s wet face buried in his chest. He wasn’t prepared for Keith clutching him, vice grip hands on his body, fingers dug into his ribs and for the searing pain as Keith squeezed his midsection just a little too tightly.

Was this what it was like to love someone more than yourself? That powerful wrenching feeling that tugged at him from within, that broke him when he saw Keith cry, that made him shudder under Keith’s hot touch.

Was this what it felt like to have your heart break? When burning passion is on the brink of consuming you, and emotions threaten to crush you and when seeing the tears of your closest friend could suddenly, terribly, make you feel nothing inside at all?

Lance could hear the low howl of wind outside and the heave of Keith’s sobs in the darkness of the Red Lion’s cockpit. He tried to pet Keith’s hair, running his fingers through the tangled black strands. He tried to think of something meaningful to say, chewing his own tongue in his dry mouth. All he could think about was death.

“This is different from how I imagined it,” Lance quietly mumbled as Keith leaned into his touch.

“Imagined what?”

“The dying part.”

He finally said it out loud. The word rolled off his tongue surprisingly easily for something he’d been avoiding talking about for so long. Lance tried to keep calming Keith as he spoke, but his hands were heavy and useless and his voice would crack intermittently.

“When I first got sick, and maybe a few times before when we came out of a close battle, I imagined a big funeral. Lots of flowers. And everyone would be crowding around, dressed in black clothing, crying and throwing roses and tokens and saying how much I meant to them and how much they’d miss me...”

Lance shifted in Keith’s lap, shrugging the woolen blanket up around his shoulders.

“Now it’s just… I’ll be gone. And my parents won’t know. And you guys will find a new blue paladin, and it’ll be over.”

“Lance, it won’t-”

“Keith,” Lance looked him in the eye, plain and calm and almost completely numb, “I’m dying.”

“Stop saying-”

Keith was grabbing the blanket around him, but his grip was weak, and his hands were shaking.

“Keith. I’m dying.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut.

“The pod! The- ...”

Lance sat, waiting for more from Keith. It didn’t come.

“I can keep getting back in, Keith, but look at what’s happening. It’s not gonna fix me. It’s just delaying the inevitable.”

Keith’s body was rigid and frozen, but his head was slowly, almost imperceptibly shaking from side to side.

“I’m dying,” said Lance. And even he felt it.

“I hate this,” whispered Keith.

“Me too.”

It didn’t matter how warm or humid the air was in the Red Lion. Lance only felt cold. He shivered in Keith’s lap, watching as another tear rolled slowly down Keith’s cheek, nearing the tip of his chin. For some reason, Lance didn’t want it to fall. Didn’t want it to hit Keith’s naked chest and run down his body, growing cold in between them.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance leaned in, stuck out his tongue, and licked the salty tear from his face. He trailed his nose up Keith’s cheek, brushing his lips against Keith’s warm skin, kissing his watery eye. Keith blinked into his kisses, letting out a soft whine of sadness. The delicate flutter of his eyelashes raked Lance’s lips and Lance wanted to kiss away every bit of hurt he’d inflicted upon Keith.

But he couldn’t. He was dying.

Lance held Keith close and together they let soft tears run from both their eyes and dampen their cheeks and collarbones and the blanket below. Lance felt a touch of cool wherever wetness remained, and Keith traced his fingers along Lance’s neck, following the lines of fallen tears.

He was dying.

He was really dying.

 

Keith cradled him in his arms.

 

* * *

 

“I wonder what time it is right now,” said Lance, sniffling, after a while.

“Something like a half hour before dinner,” said Keith, glancing over Lance’s shoulder at the dashboard.

“No,” Lance slowly shook his head, “I mean... back on Earth. I wonder what my mom is doing right now. Is she asleep? Is she folding laundry or in a meeting with one of her clients?”

Lance let his mind wander, drawn from painful thoughts of the future to fond memories of the past. He missed his mother’s firm hugs, and the times when he would run, crying, into her lap when he was a child. He missed opening Christmas presents with his siblings in front of her and eating popsicles on the front steps during summer vacation and the way she would sing him to sleep with old hymns when he was sick.

“Do you think she thinks I’m already dead?”

There was a pause, and those last words hung in the dense, muggy air.

“I’m sure she- … I don’t know, actually.”

Keith was obviously struggling to think of what to say and Lance suddenly remembered that Keith never really had a mother. He was struck by a pang of guilt, his face hot with embarrassment. But instead of hearing harsh words, he felt Keith’s hand rubbing the small of his back, reassuring him.

“I bet she misses you either way,” said Keith.

He tried to stop it, but Lance’s imagination was running away from him. His mother up late at night, scrolling through news stories, in meetings with Garrison officials, speaking to Hunk’s family, and maybe, finally, after months of fruitless searching and dead-ends, resigning herself to the fact that her son was simply gone. It wasn’t tragic in the way that Lance wanted; the fantasy of attention from a middle child threatening to run away from home. It just hurt.

“Do you think the Garrison told everyone that we died in a crash?”

“Maybe.”

“Weird,” sighed Lance, his breath blowing a few stray hairs away from Keith’s face, “I guess I’m already partly dead.”

He felt Keith twitch slightly under him.

“How so?”

“I just… I wonder if you truly die when nobody remembers you. If you don’t have any kids or gravestone, and you didn’t invent anything, or get your name in a textbook. If you didn’t leave a legacy. How could anyone know you existed at all?”

Keith was silent and still. It was like he’d stopped breathing. He closed his eyes and Lance wondered if he should be sharing all of his darkest thoughts about their mission in space, all at once, all right now but-

“Because you did things.”

Keith’s voice momentarily cut his thoughts off from spiralling, but he was soon sinking back into that dark place of uncomfortable acceptance.

“Not important things,” said Lance, almost automatically, “Not things worth remembering.”

What had Lance done with his life? What was his legacy? He was mediocre in every way. An average student, and an average pilot. He had no kids, not that he thought he was ready for them at 20; nothing for the world, or the wider universe to remember him by. Sure, he was a pilot of Voltron, and on an intergalactic mission to restore freedom to the universe, but… was _Lance_ really worth remembering? Because the most impressive thing about him so far seemed to be his _ship_.

“Everything is important, Lance. A butterfly flaps its wings and starts a hurricane. Every time you get into your lion, every time you fire your gun, every slave you set free makes you important, Lance.”

Keith was looking at him with that fondness that made Lance’s heart melt. It was that tender vulnerability that few people besides him ever got to see.

“In the end, we’re all temporarily animated stardust,” said Keith “Anything you do affects the universe in small ways. You’re important.”

He was right. That, at the very least… No. He was right. Lance would leave the world without kids or inventions or his name on a bronze plaque or in a textbook, but he’d still have existed.

Maybe that in itself was enough.

Lance looked into Keith’s reddened eyes as the lights from the dash flickered and sparkled in them. Why did it always feel so good after you cried? His heart was soft and full of fuzz and his cheeks were warm and he just wanted to press his body closer to Keith. To feel him by his side forever. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t dead yet. That, for him, would be enough. He shifted his weight in Keith’s lap, softly smiling at the fact that Keith’s legs must be beyond numb by now, and yet he hadn’t said a word.

Beautiful selfless idiot.

As Lance’s thoughts faded into fuzz, his gaze moved past Keith, watching the dancing shadows on the walls of the cockpit as the red lights softly blinked on Keith’s holoscreen. When the lights shifted, shapes emerged and disappeared on the back wall, cast from the shape of two bodies in pilot’s seat and their abandoned clothing on the floor. It was mildly hypnotic, and a little bit creepy. Lance could almost swear he saw the shadow of eight legs and two claws crawling along the back wall. But, he told himself firmly, It was just his imagination playing with his fears.

“Come on, we need to get you back and in the pod,” said Keith.

“No!” Lance’s sudden screech was loud and hoarse and pitched high with abject terror. He trembled in Keith’s lap, clutching him by the shoulders, nails dug into his skin.

“What?” Keith was startled by Lance’s extreme reaction, flattened to the back of his chair.

Lance realized his error and forced his voice back down to a normal register. He released his grip on Keith’s shoulders, embarrassed at the tiny moon-shaped marks now dented in his lover’s pale skin.

“No. Just… not right away.”

“Why not?”

Lance didn’t know how to tell Keith that he feared dreaming of the crab again. He was afraid of returning to the beautiful ocean and the silent rising moon. He was afraid of the endless crawling crabs and the horrific pain of being ripped open and strangled and drowned in his nightmares. And most of all, he was afraid of the disappointment. Of hoping against all hope that something had finally gone right for once and that he’d gotten better, only to be thrown back into misery again and again and again. He was tired. He was very nearly done.

“I want to eat dinner with you guys,” said Lance, hopefully, a little desperate to sound calm, “Just pretend like it’s normal. Then we can get me back in the pod, ok?”

Keith paused for a long time in quiet consideration. Lance snaked his fingers into Keith’s hand.

“It’s just an hour. I can do that much. If it starts to get bad, I’ll let you know.”

Keith frowned, but then relented.

“Fine, but if you start to look sick or pass out at the table, I’m taking charge.”

Lance smiled, feeling a prickle of warmth in his skin at Keith’s overprotectiveness.

“I’ll be ok. The bruise isn’t as bad as last time. Besides,” said Lance, with a bit of a laugh, “I’m starving. Like always.”

Up, off of Keith’s lap, Lance stretched his badly hunched and contorted body and watched with a suppressed grin as Keith flopped about, swearing and clumsily trying to navigate his two numb legs.

Lance found his undersuit top on the cabin floor amongst the pile of his and Keith’s gear and pulled it up, over his head, ignoring the shadows creeping around the cockpit in the corner of his eye. His helmet was completely empty. Picking it up proved it so.

He pulled on the rest of his damp, sweat-soaked uniform, sticky in the humid cockpit air and shuddered at the irritating feeling of cold, wet clothing clinging to his skin. He haphazardly shoved his legplates and breastplate on, not really bothering to do up the snap closures correctly. He’d be out of the lion momentarily, and then he’d be able to change into more comfortable clothes.

They were dressed and the radio was back on, now with a recorded message from Allura sent a few hours ago. Keith played it, and, as predicted by Lance, it was a warning for them to be back on time.

“Keith, Lance, your radios have been turned off after your landing planetside. Please be back by 19:30 hours for mealtime, and immediately notify us of your safety...”

That was strange. Lance swore he heard something odd in Allura’s message.

He forced Keith to replay it again. And then again, frowning in concentration.

“...Has Lance had any issues? Please respond as soon as you receive this.-”

The message ended as briefly as it began with a tiny click. By all accounts, it was a standard long-range transmission from deep space. Allura’s voice was normal, if slightly concerned. That wasn’t it. Something was just _off_ about it, but Lance couldn’t put his finger on it.

He had Keith play it one more time, listening intently.

The background. It had a _noise_ to it. Something that made Lance anxious, something that made his stomach churn. It was a _noise_. It wasn’t static. It was some kind of noise.

“What are you listening for?”

“I’m telling you, there’s something not normal about that message,” said Lance, hitting the button to replay it one more time.

“...ease respond as soon as you receive this.-”

There was a sort of strange hiss all throughout the transmission, and a final click as Allura ended the message. Keith looked at him expectantly and Lance bit his lip, trying to place why he found the message so uncomfortable. Nothing was wrong with her voice. But behind her, that noise. That low, softly rushing sound. It shouldn't be there. It wasn’t static.

Then Lance slowly realised what it was in the background of Allura’s message.

 

It was the sound of running water.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong with her message? I mean, besides the fact that we haven’t been in contact for over six hours.” Keith’s voice was terse and worried. Lance didn’t know how to explain. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his mouth had gone completely dry. He stood, frozen to the dash, staring at the console replay button. One more time. Surely he had to be wrong.

One more time.

It was clearly there.

Maybe she was running a bath when she sent the transmission? No. That was ridiculous. Why was it there? Why now? Why this? But even as Lance wracked his brain with questions, in the pit of his nauseous stomach, he knew. He just knew.

“Nothing. It’s fine. I just... thought I heard something. It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but Lance lied anyway.

If what he thought was happening was true, could he even trust Keith? Lance buckled himself into the fold-out seat behind Keith’s, and tried to play the whole thing off as a mistake.

Surely it was just a mistake. Lance wiped the beads of sweat forming on his brow as his hungry stomach groaned. It seemed that Red liked to keep the cockpit uncomfortably hot and humid. Was she still playing a prank? Lance saw drips of condensation streak down the cockpit wall and fog up the edges of the windshield. Keith didn’t seem bothered by this at all.

The trip back to the ship was short and uneventful, and Red landed in the hangar expertly by the grace of Keith’s skill as a pilot. Lance refused to speak of what he found so disturbing, and Keith stopped pestering him about it halfway back to the castle. Lance had kept especially quiet. He was hot and scared, and Keith’s Lion was far too muggy now for it to be a coincidence.

He was dreaming.

This was all a dream.

They exited the Red Lion and Lance was already on edge, keeping well behind a curious Keith, prepared for a burst of water or swarm of tentacles coming from anywhere, any door. The floor? The ceiling? Surely the monster was about to reach forth and grab him and kill him at any moment.

But he didn’t see anything. Standing in the enormous Hangar, Lance saw several drips of water fall from Red as a few bits of remaining ice from the planet clinging to the ship’s hull were melting in the heat. They hit the metallic floor with tiny, echoing splashes in the enormous bay. Lance noticed Keith’s eyes on him as he watched the water slowly plummet. Listening. Waiting.

Lance looked back at Keith, trying to reassure himself and determine his reality. Keith raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t speak. He grabbed Keith by the wrist. Keith, at least, felt real. He _looked_ real.

But this was a dream. Lance could see the moving, shifting, crawling shadows in the corners of his vision when he looked slightly past Keith. Crabs. Clambering over the floor, climbing up the walls.

Lance thought back to when Keith had appeared in his dreams before, and how real and solid Keith felt when he met Lance, naked, in the swamp. Lance blushed, unconsciously, remembering his first awakening attraction to Keith. At other times, Keith fought the monster away with his bare hands, or it didn’t show up at all.

Keith was keeping the monster away, wasn’t he? That’s how it worked. If he was near Keith, the monster wouldn’t attack.

But Lance had to wake up. He had to find himself.

He had to.

Lance started to panic as questions raced through his mind. Where did he fall asleep? And when? Was he still in the cockpit? Did he collapse in the snow? How much oxygen and life support did he have left? Where was the real Keith? Was he in danger trying to look after Lance’s unconscious body? Lance only knew one thing for sure. He had to wake up as soon as possible.

And, Lance slowly realised, there was only one way to do that.

He had to die.

He woke up only when he died in his dreams. He needed to be strangled or drowned or ripped open or slammed into the ground to recover himself from his nightmares. It was unfair, and horrific and Lance wanted to punch the floor and cry. His life had been nothing but nightmares and suffering for months. And now, the only way to get back to the one tiny shred of happiness he had with Keith, was doing it all over again. He had to die. Again. Over and over _again_.

He’d told himself it was worth it when he was sitting in Keith’s lap. Lance darkly wondered if those words still counted if he was already asleep. But he had to do it. There wasn’t anything he could take back now. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. But he had to do it. Lance straightened his back and tightened his quivering lip.

First, he had to get away from Keith.

“Think we have time to change?” Lance asked, his cheery voice desperately trying to cover his grim reality. He was already halfway to the bay doors that led to the main entrance of the castle.

“No, and there’s nothing wrong with eating in your uniform,” said Keith, looking him up and down as he followed close behind.

Lance sniffed his arm. “I smell like sweat. And you.”

Lance made his excuse. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Even in his dreams he was still uncomfortable with the idea of having his relationship found out.

Keith rolled his eyes. “They know, Lance.”

Lance cringed at the obvious response. There were certain aspects of privacy that seemed to get thrown out the window when one lived in closed quarters with six other people.

They’d walked up the stairs from the hangar together and now Keith was trying to pull him by the cuff towards the dining hall to meet the others for dinner. Lance was tempted, but he couldn’t be distracted. Who knew how long he’d been asleep already. And Lance swore he could hear that same whisper of running water coming from down the hall behind Keith.

“Yeah, but… Look, you go on ahead,” Lance stammered, “I’m just gonna go change before I come down.”

Keith focused on him, intensely examining Lance, and Lance could tell he looked pale and clammy and unreliably weak.

“I’ll come with you,” said Keith, “In case you need help.”

Lance kissed Keith on the cheek.

“Keith, I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Keith stayed for a moment, and Lance watched him battling his instinct to stay close, and he detected in Keith’s eyes that subtle, seething undercurrent of self-blame that told Keith that he was the cause of everything wrong with Lance’s body.

After a moment, Keith stepped back and turned.

“Come down right away, ok?”

“I’ll be back soon,” said Lance smiling reassuringly as Keith slowly walked away, occasionally checking over his shoulder until he finally disappeared around the corner.

And then Lance was alone.

Lance took a deep breath to steady himself before he began. The air was far too hot and moist. Beads of condensation were forming on the walls and pillars of the castle and drips of water ran crookedly downward as Lance climbed the stairs to the dormitories. The smooth, hard marble-like material was soaking wet and his boots squeaked with every step. Out of the corners of his eyes, Lance could see more crabs scrambling up the stairway bannisters, their clambering bodies becoming more and more frequent the higher he climbed.

So this is what it had come to, Lance thought as he wiped a drip of hot sweat from his chin. From running away for his survival to walking slowly, steadily, deliberately towards his death. Lance’s body shook with every step from exhaustion, fear, and, he noted, anger. He was tired of this. He was sick of how much the monster had taken from him, day by agonizing day.

It had turned his life inside out and ruined him, now. He was slowly dying and in some great irony, he had to kill himself to live just a little bit longer. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, Lance grit his teeth and climbed another step.

Despite the thick and rolling fog, Lance could see the shallow puddles of water along the dormitory hallway. He had to be careful to keep from slipping as he walked along the corridor towards his bedroom. Crabs scuttled away from him in parting waves as he walked.

But he didn’t go into his own door. He went into Keith’s.

There, on the wall, tucked inside Keith’s belt was what Lance had been thinking of since he heard the rushing water in Allura’s message and felt the too-dense air in Keith’s ship.

It was Keith’s knife. Sharp and long and deadly-effective and certainly not Lance’s to take. It was an enormous invasion of Keith’s privacy, he knew. Even lovers had boundaries.

But this was a dream, he told himself. It was all a dream. He wasn’t stealing. He needed to die to wake up.

After the door hissed shut behind him, Lance slid the knife out of its scabbard and looked at it. He saw his own pale and scared face reflected back at him in the dark metal blade.

He could do this. It would all be over soon.

Lance gripped the knife in his clammy hand and raised it, waiting. Listening. He could hear the sound of running water trickling out in the hallway. He could feel himself choking on the steamy air. Through the blurry mist, he could see the shifting shadows of tiny crabs crawling around in the corners of Keith’s room. Under his pillow, out of his fallen boot.

Where was the monster? Was it coming?

Lance briefly considered waiting for the monster to show up and make his task easy for him. His sweaty hand shook as he held Keith’s knife, and visions of his first night beside Keith flashed through his memory. Lance made a promise. He’d spend every last second he had alive loving Keith. Unfortunately for Lance, he just didn’t know how little time he had left. The monster had taken everything from him. And that made Lance furious.

He didn’t have time. He didn’t have time to wait, and frankly, he didn’t want to give the monster the satisfaction of killing him once more.

Lance quickly tore off his armor, abandoning his breastplate and arm cuffs, tossing his helmet haphazardly on the floor and unzipped the band connecting his undersuit top to its pants. He lifted up the shirt, exposing his naked and bruised abdomen. This was it. Lance pressed the dark grey knife to his blackened belly. The tip rested on his skin.

He breathed to steady himself and his heaving stomach poked the knife.

Do it.

Just do it.

Kill whatever’s inside you. Wake up, god damn it. Wake up. WAKE UP!

Lance’s whole body shook ferociously as he strained to keep his delirious panic at bay. His sweaty palm was slowly slipping down the blade, and still, he tried to press the jittery tip to his stomach.

Do it.

Do it now.

“Soon.”

Lance fumbled at the sudden voice of the monster echoing in his mind, and the knife slipped, causing a tiny nick in his skin. Lance yelped at the shock of pain, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of the monster. Save for the quiet clicking of crabs crawling around the room, it was silent. Lance touched his belly where a tiny dribble of blood leaked out.

The sound of rushing water increased in volume and intensity. Water dripped from the ceiling.

“Soon.”

“Ah, you finally decided to show up,” spat Lance, his voice agitated and threatening. “Where are you? Come get me! I dare you! I’ll do it first, I swear! Come on!”

He tried again, pressing the knife downward, into the tiny cut, but it stung now, and tears welled in his eyes, and his hands shook and slipped along the handle. Lance was unable to grip the blade properly and now he was desperately considering trying to fall on it.

Go, he told himself. Just point it up and fall forward. Do it. Gravity will do the rest.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” shouted Lance to the empty bedroom, and his words hit the steamy air with a lethargic muffle, “I’m doing it! I’m dying! Can’t you see?”

“Soon.”

Of course that was the only response. The voice remained, ever taunting him in his mind. Water was slowly leaking into Keith’s room from under the door.

“Soon.”

Where would the monster come from? Under Keith’s bed? Out of the shower drain? It was coming. It was always coming. He had to do it quickly, before the tentacles found him. Thick steam was gushing from Keith’s bathroom. Lance was choking. Tears fell from his eyes. The knife was heavy in his hands and the tiny nick on his stomach was bleeding a red trail down his abdomen and dripping onto the floor. Lance tried again and again to bring the knife home. But his body refused to obey his brain. He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do it.

He was a coward.

He wanted to live.

Shit.

Lance finally gave in to his feelings of panic and frustrated helplessness. Keith’s knife fell uselessly from his hand and he cried. He couldn’t do this to himself. He wasn’t brave enough. He wasn’t strong enough. It was all fake and all he had to do was die and then wake up. He’d done it a million times before, but not now. Not to himself. Not when he really needed it. He was a coward.

He had to go find the monster and do it the hard way.

Lance reached for Keith’s knife on the wet floor, peeling the mud-covered crab crawling along the handle off of it, and stood back up. He felt a wave of dizziness and the room swam in front of him. He gripped the knife, and waited for his nausea to pass. Water was still pouring into the room in little lapping waves from under the door.

Lance hovered by the entrance, steeling himself. He pressed the button to open the door and a flood of shallow water rushed in, soaking his ankles, pushing aside his abandoned armor into the corner. His helmet bobbed softly on the waves as water kept flooding endlessly in.

Lance looked out into the hallway. Down towards the training room? That’s where the monster lay in wait for him last time. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be there. No, the steam and water were coming from above.

“Soon.”

Of course, soon.

Lance sloshed down the flooded dormitory hallway and trudged numbly up another set of stairs as water trickled down, bouncing on the steps, washing tiny crabs past him and pooling in the bedrooms and halls far below. It was odd, seeing the crabs fall from the ceiling, their clattering shells hitting the hard floor with a loud cracking noise, and not feeling disturbed by it.

Lance could hear the sloshing echoes from down the halls, getting louder the closer he got toward them. Higher. He needed to go higher. He needed to find the source of the water. That’s where the monster would be.

Crabs continued to mindlessly climb up the walls and over the lights, dimming them with their bodies and casting long, raking shadows on the walls.

Lance had to focus. He couldn’t summon the energy to care.

He was dreaming. This was all a dream.

He walked, slowly, solemnly, past medical bay, past the medical pod, past his hated fucking useless nightmare chamber and continued down the hall, up another set of stairs.

“Soon.”

Bubbling water gushed around him, and streams leaked down from the ceiling and along the walls. Lance’s ears were deafened by the sound of running, rushing, falling water everywhere. And still, he kept climbing stairs. Again and again. One more set. Up to the highest point in the castle ship. Up to the source of the water. Up to where the monster would be.

Lance opened the door to the main bridge expecting a flood of water and a burst of strangling tentacles.

What he didn’t expect to see was Earth.

The celestial map had been activated and his home planet hovered in glowing silence, filling the room in its spherical glory with green and blue hues. It was beautiful. Everything he missed, everything he needed, every bit of home, shone before him on that hollow projection. Earth. He wanted it so badly.

Lance started to cry.

Water was pouring out of the planet, bubbling, flowing rushing away from it, out of the main bridge and down the hallway past Lance’s feet. Endlessly it spouted forth, flowing down and away from his home planet, pushing at his ankles.

“Soon.”

The voice was louder than ever. The monster must have been waiting for him here, inside the main bridge, inside the glowing globe of Earth. Inside his home. Inside his mind.

Lance rushed forward in unthinking rage, splashing and nearly tripping on the slippery waterlogged floor.

“Yeah, I get it! Soon! Soon! I’m tired, monster. I’m done. You win! Is this what you want?”

He shouted, stumbling and turning around and around the room, arms stretched wide, taunting, waiting, presenting his full body for the taking.

“Please! Just kill me now! Do it! I’m ready!”

There was no answering echo from the deep and sinister voice. Only the sound of running water.

Where was it? Lance kept turning back on himself, frantically searching in every direction for what must surely be behind him. Any moment. He could feel it coming. He knew what would happen. He just needed to get it over with.

“Soon.”

Lance screamed with frustrated, futile exhaustion and his fist slammed into the shallow water as his knees hit the watery ground. Why wasn’t it just killing him? He needed to die!

Lance sobbed and his tears and nose ran, mixing with the hot, steamy air and flooding water. He threw himself backwards onto the floor, into the water and stared up at the silent glowing symbol of his home overhead and wailed in a delirious rage.

The warm water washed away at the trickle of blood staining his legplates and shirt. The wound was still open, still leaking from his insides, and the black bruise was slowly getting larger.

Lance drew his finger over the small cut dribbling out red blood that dissipated into the running water. This was his sickness. This was what the monster did to him. There was something evil inside of him.

And Lance knew what he had to do.

The earth glowed softly overhead as it rotated, undisturbed, above Lance, holographic clouds shifting and changing, the tiny moon orbiting around it in real time. It was so beautiful. He missed it so much.

Lance thought of his mother, and his siblings, of his friends at the Garrison, and Hunk and Pidge and Keith. Keith who he’d learned to love and now had to let go of. Soon. He’d have to die soon. Lance’s tears ran from his eyes and mixed with the water. Just a bit more time. One more day. He’d make it all worth it. He’d wake up, and put everything together. He just needed to wake up from his nightmare.

Lance brought the knife up to his stomach, and as he lay in the water, it washed around his body, gently rocking him in a sad and lonely lullaby.

  
“I’ll see you soon, Keith. I just have to wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at this lovely illustration](http://absolem0.tumblr.com/post/153786769274/sick-small-fanart-for-lovely-yes) by the talented and amazing [Absolem0](http://absolem0.tumblr.com/)~!!!


	13. LIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tragedy is the ending of life - Comedy is the continuation of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** This is a horror story that contains descriptions of choking / suffocation / drowning and dissociative reality / nightmare situations. There is also blood, descriptions of illness, nudity and non-explicit sexuality. There is one untagged possible trigger that is a major spoiler for the ending. This has been listed in the end notes of the fic. If you need any other content warnings, feel free to send me a comment or message on tumblr.

It was beautiful, the Earth.

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he lay bleeding, on his back, looking up at it. The ground beneath Lance was hard and cracked clay, not the soft sand of the endless shallow ocean like he’d remembered. But the stars. Those were the same. Infinite, uncountable, living, breathing galaxies stretching endlessly before him.

And in the centre, far above him in that dome of clear night sky, the shining jewel of the universe. Everything he loved. Earth. It rose majestically before him like the moon, in glorious luminessence, looking down upon him as he slowly died in his dream.

Lance felt the last nagging sensation of pain in his abdomen ebb away towards total numbness. He was glad. He was no longer afraid. Not of crabs ripping themselves from his flesh, or monsters drowning and strangling him. He’d finally done it. His body was heavy. His fingers were growing cold. There was no water to keep him warm.

Blood seeped out of his stomach with every heaving gasp and Lance closed his eyes, rolling his cheek into the dry earth of the former swamp. His breath puffed a small cloud of fine particles into the air, and specks danced before his eyes, glittering in the starlight.

All around him was dust.

No fog.

No trees.

No water.

Only floating dust and endless starry sky.

There was a thumping noise near him, beside him, his dull consciousness barely aware of it. He could ignore it, he thought. He was so close to death. He was ready to let go and drift away.

This felt different, this death.

_He was no longer scared._

That was it.

He wondered where the others were...

 

* * *

 

“Where is Lance?”

The words came from Allura, but they were on everyone’s mind.

She was staring down the table at the empty chair beside Keith. It was long past the time she could be justifiably annoyed that her food was getting cold, and the silent discomfort amongst them had been growing steadily since the both of them came back from the ice planet. But Keith said Lance was going to change.

Lance should have been there by now. Allura shifted in her seat.

 

* * *

 

The dull thumping continued. No, it wasn’t his heartbeat, he concluded. It was coming from the ground, off to his left. He could hear the dry, delicate clay breaking under the force of impact.

Thump. Thump.

Like a dying fish fighting for water on dry land, the noise continued its irregular rhythm.

Thump. Thump.

Curiosity got the best of him. Lance summoned enough energy to roll his head over to the other side.

Ah.

There it was.

 _About time you showed up_ , he thought.

The monster was no longer terrifying. It was pathetic. Just like him.

Its enormous black body was flopping helplessly on the ground, withered and lethargic, trapped in the crusted earth. Its eye stalk lay in the hardened dirt, dust muddying the corner of it like dark tears. Still, it stared at Lance, unblinking.

 _Soon?_ Lance guessed, staring back at the weakly writhing creature.

Ah, yes. Soon.

Despite the numbness in his lips, Lance smiled. He couldn’t help but feel a small, smug sense of satisfaction. Soon, it would be over. Soon, he would wake up.

“Fool,” said the monster.

 

* * *

 

Allura was staring at the clean spoon in her trembling hand. Eyes flickered around the room, bouncing between her and the doorway. No one said anything. Coran held her gaze apologetically. Allura placed the spoon back down beside her uneaten meal.

 _I’m worried_ , she sent to Coran, her unspoken thoughts transferred by Altean biology.

 _I know you are,_ Coran’s eyes flashed in return, _We’ve given him time. Something is wrong._

“You two are being psychic again,” said Pidge, impatiently. “It makes me uncomfortable. If you have something to say, say it.”

Allura bit her lip. Coran gave her a subtle nod.

 

* * *

 

The air was devoid of any humidity, and the pool of spilled blood under his body was seeping into the dry ground, turning quickly from bright red to eerie black. His lips were chapped, and they stung with every jagged breath Lance took. He was incredibly thirsty.

But there was no water, only blood.

He could see the hot red liquid dribbling out of his wound, though thankfully he could no longer feel it. If he moved his eyes, vision swimming, head aching, he could still see the knife, moving up and down in his abdomen in time with his slow and rattling breath. Strange, being able to see it, but no longer feel it. Strange, but not unwelcome.

“Fool.”

The monster flapped and wriggled helplessly off to his side, twisting and slithering in the dust. Its dry, leathery tentacles reached out to him, but came up short. They ended just a few feet away, shrivelled and helpless, desperately stirring at the broken ground.

 

* * *

 

Keith was fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, food untouched, completely unable to sit still. His head kept flicking towards the doorway expectantly.

“You said he’d be right down,” said Pidge.

Keith’s mouth twitched.

“Do you think he fainted somewhere?” asked Hunk.

Keith’s eyes were wide and darting around the room.

“Keith?” Allura prodded, “Did anything happen after I sent you my transmission? Why were your radios shut off?”

Everyone was staring at Keith now, and Keith had turned bright red. His whole body was shaking in his chair.

“He was fine all of today!” Keith stammered, “Allura, he was running around and throwing snowballs!”

“No one is blaming you, Keith,” said Shiro, gently, trying to calm the tension in the room.

“I am!” shouted Pidge, “What if running around in the snow just made Lance sicker? Hunk and I have been working our asses off for him for _weeks_ , and you take him out and give him hypothermia! Need I remind you that I have put _my_ life on fucking _hold_ for you two-”

“HE WAS FINE!” Keith slammed his fists on the table and Pidge was suddenly silenced.

 

* * *

 

 _You’re dying_ , he thought, staring at the creature as its twisting appendages grew weaker and weaker. He had no will or energy to speak, but he knew the monster had understood.

_I’m killing you._

Lance’s vision was growing dark. The glowing Earth above him was blurry and faint.

Almost there.

He wondered where Keith was right now, and how much of their day had been real. When did he fall asleep? Had they really kissed as much? Touched as much? Would he have to explain it all as a beautiful fantasy to Keith when he woke up?

“Fool,” said the monster.

Fool? How so? He’d figured out what he needed to do. He would wake soon and find Keith and the rest. This was how it worked. Unless…

“Fool.”

 

* * *

 

“He said he’d be right down!” Keith shouted as he knocked his chair over in his haste to get up, spoon clattering to the floor, “I shouldn’t have left him!”

“Keith, where are you going?” asked Shiro, his voice carrying heavy implication. “Don’t just walk away, Keith.”

Keith was halfway out the door and Shiro was ineffectively trying to convince him to stay, but Keith refused to even turn around or acknowledge him.

“He said he was gonna change. That’s where I’m going.”

Keith was gone. Shiro was rubbing his temples.

 

* * *

 

It was all real, wasn’t it?

Everything was real. The ice planet, Keith, the hangar, the bedroom. It was all real.

And he’d stabbed himself.

He wasn’t in the swamp, seeing an endless desert and a galaxy of stars. He was on the main bridge. And he was bleeding to death. Lance felt a last sickening wave of nausea coursing through his body.

“Fool,” said the monster.

 

* * *

 

“Fine, we’ll split up,” said Allura, staring down the table at the rest of the Paladins. It felt good to finally come to action. They’d been sitting in unbearable discomfort for far too long.

“They both came from the Hangar,” said Shiro, “I’ll go check there.”

“I’ll check medical bay,” added Hunk.

 He and Shiro left the dining hall and split in opposite directions.

“Pidge, Coran, you scout the rest of the castle for any sign of Lance,” Allura commanded. “Check everywhere. We have no idea where he may have wandered off.”

Coran nodded. Pidge shrugged, but she looked relieved at having something to do.

“And you?” asked Pidge.

“I will stay here in case he arrives,” Allura sighed, resigning herself to remain put when she dearly wanted to search with the rest of her team.

 

* * *

 

He was angry, he realised. This couldn’t be happening. He wanted to live! He wasn’t ready to give up just yet!

He wanted to see his friends one more time! Touch their hands! Hear their voices! He wasn’t ready to die alone in space! Pointlessly. Uselessly. _Gone._

_You did this! It’s your fault! You tricked me!_

His thoughts were fire and he could see the monster writhe and shrivel from his anger, its giant eye wincing shut in submission, its tentacles curling back upon themselves in tight spirals.

_I hate you._

“Fool.”

 

* * *

 

Left alone, Allura could only pick at her nails and think. Had she been too harsh on Lance? Was he doing this deliberately to scare them? He’d complained so much before now that they hadn’t paid him any attention or acknowledged his illness.

And, she admitted, with slow and heavy sadness, he was right.

When had Lance finally convinced her that he was truly ill? She’d barely allowed Pidge and Hunk to divert their attention from full-scale assaults on Zarkon to working on the medical pod for him.

She was selfish. She was blind. And now, perhaps, she was too late.

Allura clutched her cup in her shaking hand, hearing the fading footsteps of her fellow paladins echo in the hallways.

 

* * *

 

They were both dying. With every part of Lance that weakened, the monster grew more tired and still.

 _Good,_ thought Lance, _Say your prayers and meet your maker._

The monster had taken everything from him. But Lance had made the final blow. He’d taken his death into his own hands. Should he be proud of that? Lance couldn’t help but pause.

Maybe it was the half-ignored lectures in sunday school haunting him, or some form of divine punishment, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t feel brave. He just felt scared and alone.

_Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo._

_Santificado sea tu nombre._

The old, familiar words flowed through Lance’s mind from the back of his memory as the monster slowly blinked its dry eye in the dust.

_Venga tu reino._

_Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo._

Lance stared at the Earth silently hovering overhead, and his thoughts drifted back towards home. He wondered what his mother was doing right now. Was she driving to church, humming along to the radio? Was she on the phone with his aunt? If she were here… would she sing to him like she used to?

_Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día._

_Perdona nuestras ofensas,_

Lance thought about all the time he’d spent with his mother in church when he was a child, and the fallout they’d had when he finally said he no longer wanted to go. The long fights, the silent car rides, the strained holidays, and then, eventually, the slow and gradual acceptance from his mother - coloured by her unwavering conviction that he would come around again to the faith.

_como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden._

_No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal._

Well, it was true now, wasn’t it? Here he was, dying and begging at the door of his religion, wrestling the idea of his eternal damned soul. Would it be better to fade to black and then nothing more? The closer he got to death, the more Lance didn’t want there to be nothing after he died. It seemed lonely and pointless. But, if God awaited him and heaven _was_ real…  Would he even be good enough to enter?

_Amén._

Lance coughed a watery sigh. His mother was right. There were no atheists in foxholes.

 

* * *

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharply pitched squeak. One of the mice was scurrying into the dining hall and running towards the foot of her chair in a panic. It pawed and scratched at the hem of her dress, clambering to get up to her.

“Calmly, tiny one!” she cooed, “I can scarcely understand your thoughts!”

Allura reached down and cupped the frantic little creature in her hands, bringing it level with her face.

The mouse was clearly scared and exhausted, having dashed through the entire castle to reach her. She could feel its tiny heart and lungs pumping in its quivering body as she held it in her hands.

“The main bridge?” gasped Allura, “Why there?”

 

* * *

 

_I hate you. I’m glad you’re dying. If nothing else, you don’t get to live._

He had no strength left to pull himself up, no will to keep fighting for breath. But he had his hatred. And his pettiness. Lance glared at the dying monster as it whined softly in the dust. If he wasn’t going to get into heaven, he was certainly not going to go easy.

_I hate you._

_I hate you._

_Die with me. Go to hell with me._

_Suffer with me._

 

* * *

 

Keith burst out of his bedroom as she passed through the upper hall.

“My knife is gone!” he shouted, “Why would he take it!?”

Keith nearly slammed into her as skidded to a halt, grabbing her arms.

“He left his helmet in my room! No wonder I can’t radio him! Allura, I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened! He was with me the whole time on the planet! He seemed fine! I don’t know what I did!”

Keith was pulling at her sleeves as he shouted hysterically and she could feel his spit on her face. Allura blinked, struggling for something to say. Suddenly Keith was pulling away and into a sprint down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Keith, where are you-?”

But it was no use. He was already gone.

 

* * *

 

He was growing cold. His anger could no longer sustain him. He was too weak to cry, too tired to breathe. The stars twinkled in the sky, and for a brief moment, they looked like the glowing electric lights of the main bridge’s dashboard.

The Earth rotated silently overhead. He missed Keith.

 

* * *

 

Allura tried to ignore the first tiny droplet of blood she saw on the upper stairway of the castle halls. Surely it was just a piece of dirt. It was small and dark and she was moving as quickly as she could. She didn’t have time to stop or look back.

It was past medical bay, where Hunk had already left to comb the other hallways, that she found another dark drip splattered on the floor. It was blood. It was drying blood. Was his nose bleeding again? Why not come to them and get help? What was he doing with Keith’s knife? Surely he hadn’t… oh, who was she kidding. Of course Lance would find a way to injure himself.

Allura picked up her skirts and hurried her pace as her heart thrummed in her chest. Her earrings rang with nervous reports from the other paladins. No one could find Lance. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Everyone could feel it.

Up another set of stairs, and another streak of blood, smeared by a footstep. This was Lance, no doubt. She was getting closer. Why hadn’t he called for help? His behaviour was so erratic lately, she-

No.

She hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been caught up with her plans of attack, and her selfishly clandestine romance with Shiro, and she’d let Lance fall completely by the wayside.

Allura felt a sharp pang of guilt rotting in her gut. She’d make this right. No more ignorance, no more avoidance. She’d get to the bottom of this.

At the top of the stairs, the doors to the main bridge were open. _Odd_ , she thought. And a glow was coming from inside. Who had left something on? Pidge?

Earth.

The celestial map was showing her the human paladins’ home planet, rotating in exquisite detail overhead, nearly filling the room with its vast projection. And under it...

 

* * *

 

It was no use. His willful hatred only drained his energy further, only deepened the hollow feeling within him and made him miss his friends and family even more. He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to feel so alone. He just wanted to live.

 _Sorry we both had to die,_ thought Lance.

“Sorry?” said the monster.

Lance gazed into its eye, watching its pupil slowly lose focus.

He wasn’t ready to forgive.

But he could try to accept both their fates.

There was a new sound. Another rhythm, but not the monster. Footsteps? Soft, but quick. Someone was behind him, above him. He hadn’t the strength to turn and see.

The monster didn’t react. It was still squirming helplessly in the dust.

 

* * *

 

“Lance!”

Allura’s voice seemed separate from her body, as if someone else had said it. The sight of Lance crumpled on the steps of the bridge in a pool of blood utterly consumed her attention.

“He’s on the bridge!” Allura was screaming the words into her radio. She found herself bending down and grasping at his frail and limp body. Up, off the hard ground and into her arms, she pulled him close before she quickly reeled back in horror. Keith’s knife was protruding grotesquely out of Lance’s abdomen.

Allura had no time to consider what had happened. What had led up to this moment. Slowly, the planet Earth rotated above them, its softly marbled blue-green glow casting a sickly pale light over Lance, and Allura knew from his sallow skin and freezing body that he didn’t have much time left.

 

* * *

 

White hair and dark skin. Beautiful. Softer than he’d ever imagined. Her hand on his cheek was warm, and comforting, sending tingles of fleeting sensation through his numb body. It reminded him of home. She shone like a fiery sun, and her anguished face was beyond divine. She was lifting him, holding his head in her lap, gazing down upon him with such dedicated sorrow. She didn’t seem to notice the monster next to them.

He worried for a moment that his blood would ruin her dress, but she only held him closer in her gentle arms. Like a mother cradling a child, she stroked his forehead, brushing his dirty hair out of his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there, beautiful. Glad you found me,” Lance whispered, his half-lidded gaze struggling to focus on her, pupils rolling dangerously into the back of his head.

“Lance! What happened! What are you doing!?” Allura shut her eyes tightly as tears welled within, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest against Lance’s cold, limp body.

“Dying,” Lance smiled weakly, as if it were all a delirious joke.

_“Why?”_

It was all Allura could do to breathe that single word. She’d failed him. She’d ignored him, and pressured him and pushed him aside and and now he’d taken his own life. She’d failed her paladin in every way...

“I thought I had to die in my dream to wake up. But…”

“You’re not dreaming, Lance, you’re _dying,_ ” Allura sobbed.

“I know.” Lance slowly closed his eyes.

“Lance, _why?_ ”

“I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to. Please. I want to live, Allura. Tell Keith I want to live, ok? Put me back in the pod if we still can.”

Lance’s voice was low and rambling, and she could scarcely understand his slurring speech, but Allura was barely paying attention anyway. She’d made her decision. She was already drawing upon all of her energy, concentrating, remembering the sacred rites of the royal bloodline, and preparing herself physically and spiritually.

“What’re you doing?” mumbled Lance, noticing the sudden stillness of her body, moreso that she’d stopped petting his hair.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” said Allura, her voice grim and full of determination.

“I was selfish before, but I will not lose you now. Lance, I'm so sorry I didn't act earlier. I was caught up in our mission and the castle and I completely looked past how you were. I was only thinking of myself and my hatred of the Galra. You were suffering and I ignored it. I ignored you. I was wrong.”

Allura’s hands began to softly glow, and as her concentration deepened, that inner light spread throughout her entire body, until she was shining with a powerful and sacred energy.

“I will give you a portion of my life-essence, Lance. A few years off of my lifetime will mean nothing to me. You will not die here and now. I promise.”

She leaned in and kissed him on his forehead. And as she did so, her inner light began to flow into him, lifting his body from the firm grasp of death. Lance’s mouth curled upwards in a warm smile.

“If I get held by a beautiful princess like you,” whispered Lance, “I’ll be sure to die more often.”

Allura smiled as she brushed aside Lance’s delirious flirting. Sinking further into her meditative state, soon to be lost in the essence of her race's ancient healing ritual, Allura made one last psychic cry to Coran and the four mice in the castle. Then she closed her eyes, settled her thoughts and began the deepest healing trance she had ever attempted.

 

* * *

 

“I’m here now, Lance.”

Allura’s form had grown more clear and solid next to him. She was no longer that strange, translucent ghost held together by wisps of light. She was real and she was sitting in the broken clay desert with him, holding him in her lap and looking down at him with serene grace.

“Is all of this real?” asked Lance. Allura cocked her head to one side, softly smiling at him.

“You are dreaming,” said Allura, calmly rocking him in her arms, “And I am dreaming with you.”

Her whole body was glowing, and as her hand brushed his face, he felt her inner light flow into him, and her warm healing touch soothe away the agony of his impending death.

“Are you sure you’re not the monster here to kill me?”

“Monster?” Allura was taken aback, and Lance hazily remembered that in all the time he was sick, he hadn’t properly explained anything to her.

“What monster?”

“The monster in my mind.” Lance rolled his head slowly over to his left, where the tentacle monster lay, gasping and writhing. Allura looked over, and her eyes widened in shock.

Lance could do nothing but breathe.

It was real. She saw it. Relief washed over him and Lance shuddered under her touch. It was real. He was right. It was real.

“Is that what has caused your nightmares? That creature?” she asked, staring at the dying monster.

“Yes.”

She saw it. It was all real.

Lance started crying.

“Are you hurting?” Allura asked, and the light from her hands temporarily wavered.

“No,” said Lance, “You just... You have no idea what it feels like to have someone actually believe you instead of thinking you're faking or crazy.”

Lance felt a splash of wetness on his face. It was a tear. Allura was weeping with him. He wanted to comfort her, to reach up and brush the tears from her eyes, but his body refused to obey him. And so he watched her. Gratitude flooded through him. And he watched her.

He watched her as she poured her own life-energy into him, and he could feel warmth and strength and will returning to him. Death was now only a memory, not an inevitability.

And still her gaze wavered back, over to the monster.

She looked upon it, not with anger or contempt, but with pity. Why? Why was she even looking at it? It couldn’t hurt them where they were. She should ignore it, and heal him, and let it die. Let them both return the world of the real and the living. Yet Allura kept staring at the struggling monster. He felt a wash of anger within himself even as he tried to suppress and ignore it. Lance couldn’t help himself. He watch her divde her attention between himself and the monster. He resented her for it.

Allura took one of her hands off of him, and Lance shrank, begging for that comforting touch to return.

She was reaching her arm out towards the monster.

No. Why?

But Allura continued to reach out, beckoning, her palm outstretched. Her eyes flashed with hidden thoughts, and he saw the monster twist and groan and nod its grotesque head in recognition.

The monster gathered its strength and thrust its longest tentacle out. Slowly, it slithered that one single ropey arm towards her, pouring its strength into that final lonely task. Closer and closer, it crawled itself towards them and Lance winced as he watched it carve tiny wavelets in the fine clay dust of the desert. Closer. And then…

Allura reached out and grasped the reaching tentacle of the monster, and it curled itself around her palm and wrist.

Lance couldn’t believe what was happening, he wanted to fight or flee in disgust, but he needed Allura to heal him. His heart now beat angrily in his chest, and his will to live was surging through him. He wasn’t going to give up now! He refused to be tricked or defeated by this monster ever again!

Allura’s eyes began to glow, and still the healing energy poured out of her, now into both of them. Lance, and the monster.

Lance watched as the monster shuddered, observing in it that quiet sensation of relief that he’d felt in his own body upon feeling Allura’s kind touch. She was healing it as well. _Why?_

“Allura?” he whispered.

Allura looked down on him, and her face was no longer serenely compassionate. It was cold and blank. It wasn’t cruel, but it was certainly alien. Lance was frozen in shock as terror seeped through him. 

“Fool child,” she spoke, her voice metallic and empty, and Lance knew that her mind was no longer her own. Allura was gone.

“You’re the monster,” was all he could gasp.

Allura nodded to him, and he saw the monster tighten its grip around her hand. He looked down its arm at the body of the monster and saw its eye, still endlessly fixed and unblinking upon him.

“Your anger, child. It drives you. We are not so different, after all.”

The words came from Allura’s mouth, but Lance was speaking to the monster now. It was talking to him! More than cryptic threats and whispers! Suddenly thoughts flooded his mind. He wanted to say everything, ask everything, demand explanations for what had happened! What was the monster? Why was it haunting him?

“We mourn as you mourn,” said the monster through Allura, “This is our last. Flesh of our flesh, we end with you.”

 _We?_ Was it killing Allura too?

“Who are you? Allura are you- is Allura dying?”

“No. We are many, you who only see us as one. It is our nature to be many and one at once.”

Many. The creature was more than one? Like, different brains and personalities? No wonder it was so confusing to deal with. No wonder it never seemed to be able to make up its mind with him.

“And we are already dead. It was you and the sharp one who made it so.” Lance quietly nodded. He and Keith had started this whole mess. As much as he hated the monster, it did have a good reason to be angry with him.

“How did you get into my dreams? Why are you trying to kill me? Isn’t it enough that I’m already sick?”

Allura cocked her head to the side questioningly.

“Sick? It was never meant to be so, but your body has proven to be incompatible,” she shook her head slowly, “As we were dying, we gave you our last hope. The flesh of our flesh. And the seed of our memory. All of our history, all of our many lifetimes live within you.”

“History?” asked Lance, floored by the fact that he not only had an alien living inside of him, but a _ghost_ alien, “How old are you?”

“The first of us was there in the beginning, and every borne one that came after. Our memories stay within the seed, passed on to the flesh of our flesh. They must know our history. Who we are. The chain has been unbroken since our dawning.”

Lance suddenly thought back to a dumb song that Hunk used to sing under his breath when he tinkered in their dorm back at the Garrison.

“ _For billions of years since the onset of time,_  
every single one of your ancestors has survived.  
Every single person on your mom and dad’s side,  
successfully looked after and passed on to you life. ”

Funny to think about. That he and the monster were the result of evolution and unimaginably long spans of time. From dinosaurs the cavemen to his own birth, Lance was just one in a long, unbroken chain of living beings.

“But you have broken it. You and the sharp one. Our history, our memories will end. You were imperfect, but we had no choice. We had hope, but you have proven to be incompetent.”

Well, that was just insulting. He’d tried his best to stay alive, hadn’t he? Biting Keith notwithstanding. And... the memories. His nightmares of the swamp. His hallucinations of water. They weren’t just dreams. They were memories?

“Flesh of our flesh, this is our end!”

 _Flesh of our flesh_. It kept saying that over and over through Allura’s mouth. Like an infection? Or-

“The born ones! They will eat through your body and you will die.”

Wait.

“And as punishment, they will die. You beings do not live in water. Breathe in water. You are drywalkers. The born ones will suffocate from your death-”

That meant...

“Babies?” The word felt strange on his lips as he said it out loud. “You mean… I’ve got your babies inside me?”

Time seemed to stop momentarily as Lance’s hand drifted up, slowly to his stomach. The shock of the revelation slowly sank into him. He was pregnant. Like a girl. He was carrying little babies inside of him, and he’d been feeding them and caring for them unknowingly the whole time. The stomach pains. The hunger. He was keeping babies alive with his own body. Just like his mom did with him. Just like she did with four other kids. And now, they wanted to be born.

“The seed of memory was placed within you. It will die with you.”

Lance felt a wave of sadness. Stabbing himself seemed so grossly inappropriate now. He’d almost killed himself, and killed the monster’s living legacy. No children. No memory. Gone.

Legacy.

The monster wanted a legacy. Just like Lance. It didn’t want to be famous or important or go down in history textbooks. It wanted its babies to live so it could pass its memories down. The monster wanted a legacy, for the universe to remember that it once existed.

And if the babies died, their history would be wiped out.

“You just want to be remembered, don’t you?” Lance looked up into Allura’s glowing eyes and then over at the monster that had grown increasingly still.

“All that we are, all that has been, lives within you. It ends with you.”

Everything the monster had done. It wasn’t just a nightmare, it was a _memory_. He had thousands, maybe millions of years of alien memories within him, screaming at him, telling him that the babies just wanted to be born. They wanted to live, just like him. They were completely different species, from different planets and different walks of life, and yet both of them, Lance and the monster, just wanted to live long enough to create a legacy.

“I’ll do it,” said Lance, softly.

The monster’s pupil focused upon him and Allura’s eyes narrowed over his head.

“No, I’ll do it,” he said, a little more forcefully, “I’ll keep your babies alive, so… So they can remember you. Look, I’m sorry Keith killed you. It was an accident. I’m sorry all this happened and you’ve been trapped inside my brain and my stupid body. Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do.”

He swallowed, not entirely sure of what he was doing.

“But,” said Lance, “I’ll do my best.”

Well… How hard could it be?

He’d already been sick for months, got in his Lion and fought the Galra despite that, thought he was dying, and repaired his relationship with Keith. Really, remembering to heat up a bottle or put someone down for a nap was the least of Lance’s concerns in the larger picture.

“Fool child. A child bearing a child. You know nothing!”

“Hey, I can do it, ok?” said Lance, finding his own strength and propping himself up onto his elbows, “I’m a Cancer. I’m the fucking mom-sign. I helped raise my little brother and sisters. I took care of our chinchillas back on Earth! And I know my mom would _never_ let me get out of it if I got a girl pregnant, so I… I can at least try!”

“How would a drywalker keep them alive?” The monster used Allura’s hand to point at Lance’s face, and he felt a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

“I dunno!” said Lance, defensively, “I’ll put them in water! I’ll look after them! I’m just... I’m so tired of death.” His voice grew weary, and Lance sounded much older than he was, “I don’t want anyone else to die. I can’t promise that I won’t completely fuck this up, but I want to at least _try._ ”

He felt the tension grow as the monster and Allura paused, and the air was completely silent. He wondered if the monster would just turn around and try to strangle him with Allura’s bare hands.

Then, after too long, Lance felt Allura and the monster sigh together in resignation. After a moment, they spoke again.

“We cannot change what has happened. Our anger and grief at our sudden death has nearly destroyed us both. Keep them, fool child. Keep the flesh of our flesh. Of your flesh. And when they are strong and ready to bind into one-ness, bring them home. They will inherit the seed of memory, and we will plague you no longer.”

He’d do it. He’d keep the babies and raise them until they were strong enough to live on their own, and then return them to the wild. It would be hard work, but it was fair. He wanted to do this. For the both of them.

Lance nodded, reaching out for Allura’s free hand. But she offered the entangled one. After a breath of hesitation, Lance placed his hand over the monster’s black tentacle, feeling its leathery skin once more. He told himself that he was no longer afraid. The creature released Allura’s hand and wrapped itself around Lance. He felt his body instinctively tense, but he fought his panic and let the creature gently grasp him.

Its grip was gentle, and smooth, and it ran itself over his skin in delicate patterns that Lance didn’t think the monster capable of. It seemed to be saying goodbye.

With that, the monster’s grip lessened and its tentacle fell to the dry ground. It pulled back and retreated into itself, until its wriggling mass was nothing more than a tight ball of muscley ropes wound around itself.  Its body lay, still and calm, eye closed and peaceful.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” said Allura, having brought herself back, and watching the monster with Lance. “I think it’s just sleeping for now.”

Lance swallowed. He’d just promised to take care of its children. For however long until they were grown and strong. He was going to become a parent. It terrified him. But he was also starting to imagine a life without nightmares. A life with his Paladin family, and, if he was lucky, a life that would be long and eventful and eventually let him return to Earth. It almost seemed too good to be true.

“Lance,” said Allura, stroking his hair once more, “When we both awaken, I will help your mind store away the biological memories that the creature placed inside of you. The door that has been forced open in your mind… We will shut it now. Breathe easy. When the time comes, we’ll give those memories to the children.”

Lance nodded, and he felt an incredible reverence towards Allura, for her compassion and knowledge. For once in all of his sickness and his nightmares, he didn’t feel so alone.

“Lance, I can feel their presence around us. Everyone is there. Keith is there. Are you ready to wake up?”

Lance took one final look up at the stars, up at the Earth shining down upon him from overhead. He wasn’t going to die. He was going to live.

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

“Water,” Lance choked, as his consciousness slammed back into his real body, “The babies have to be born into water!”

Everything hurt. From his head to his arms and legs and the grinding pain of the knife still stuck in his belly. He wanted to vomit from the white-hot agony, but he knew he didn’t have the strength.

“He just spoke! He’s alive! Oh my god!” Keith was standing over the both of them, his eyes red and bloodshot. He smeared his running nose on the back of his glove. His whole body was shaking.

“He was never dead, Keith,” said Coran, gently, “Allura knows what she’s doing.”

Everyone was standing around him, their worried faces looking down on lance. It had become a familiar sight after so many months, but this time, he had an answer. This time would be the last.

“Babies? What’s he talking about?” asked Shiro, from the back of the confused onlookers, but his question went unanswered as Allura began shouting orders.

“Coran! Run ahead to my quarters and fill the bath! Cool water, not hot!” Allura commanded, even as she held Lance in her arms, dress soaked with his blood, “Shiro, get a stretcher from medical bay to carry Lance. Quickly!”

Neith one questioned Allura’s orders and both took off at a run.

Lance’s body hurt. It hurt viciously. With the healing Allura had performed, Lance had regained every sensation in his body and the pain was almost unbearable. The knife was still buried deep in his abdomen and Keith, Pidge and Hunk were all staring at it with mixed horror. But, at the same time, Lance realised, the pain was good. It meant he was alive. And thankfully, wonderfully, Keith was by his side.

“Lance, what happened to you? Why did you stab yourself?” Keith was a mess, and lance knew he must have blamed himself for Lance’s own hallucinations.

“Um,” said Lance, and his mind was spinning and it hurt to take in breath or talk, “Keith, hold on. It’ll be… a surprise.”

“What?” He wanted to explain everything. But it was all so fast, and bright, and loud. Lance struggled with where to even start.

“I’m not dying,” Lance gasped, “I thought I was, but… I’m not.”

Keith was looking at him for answers, and when Lance was unable to give any, he looked to Allura. Lance heard her speak in low tones to Keith and Pidge and Hunk, but his brain was full of pain and fog and he just couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying.

“How?” asked Keith, and Lance wondered what he was talking about as he knelt down in the drying pool of Lance’s blood, anxious to help or hold him in any way, but visibly unsure of what to do.

“Keith, we need you to stand aside for a second,” Shiro was back with a hovering stretcher, placing it down in front of him, readying himself to lift Lance onto it.

Lance screamed as Shiro pushed a little too hard, Hunk grabbing his ankles and Pidge steadying his midsection. And Keith was there by his head, placing his hands on his neck and shoulders, trying his best to calm Lance, trying to suppress his own fears and keep Lance in stable condition.

“We need to take him to my quarters. Don’t touch the knife just yet,” said Allura, and she and Shiro activated the stretcher to hover at waist-height.

“He’s gonna be ok, right?” asked Hunk, as he and Pidge followed behind Shiro while Allura led the way down the hall.

“If we’re quick and we’re careful, he might just be fine,” said Allura over her shoulder.

Lance could feel every bump and jostle shift the knife inside of him and he was moaning in pain, unable to stop himself.

“Keith! Keith!” Lance whimpered, “I don't know what to do. _Please._ Ungh. _Help me._ ”

The sight of the knife stuck inside of him was making Lance dizzy. Keith was holding his hand, running beside him, wiping away his own tears and Lance could see how hard he was trying to focus, trying to stay calm. Keith’s eyes widened and he turned to Lance suddenly.

“Star wars! Tell me what happens! Don’t look down. Tell me what happens next in Return of the Jedi!”

Memories flooded through him like well-worn lessons. Dates and planets and factions and battles. Everything was organized and stored away in Lance’s feverish obsession with his favourite subject. Even thinking about it made him feel calmer, safer as he bled steadily from the knife wound.

“Ewoks!” Screamed Lance, as Shiro and Allura turned a sudden corner and bucked the stretcher and pain surged throughout his body, “There are these tiny creatures called ewoks, and Keith, they’re so cute and FUCK- Oh, god it hurts!”

“Keep talking, Lance, keep talking.” Keith was still holding his hand, and his grip was firm despite its tense shaking.

“And they’re fighting to-” Lance gasped, “Attack the shield station that’s protecting the-”

Keith was staring into his eyes, nodding. He wouldn’t let Lance look down, but Lance could see his eyes return again and again to his knife buried in his gut.

“They have to blow up- ngh- the second Death Star! It’s fully operational!”

Now, somehow, they were in Allura’s quarters, and there was a large bathtub full of water. Shiro and Allura nodded, lowering the stretcher into the tub. Lance sucked in a sharp intake of breath as the lukewarm water hit his wound, and his stomach was suddenly churning madly.

He wanted to faint and scream, and his forehead dripped with sweat from the pain.

“Keep looking at me, Lance. Keep talking,” Lance looked into his lover’s eyes and through the pain he was reminded of just how beautiful Keith’s face was.

Lance was talking, but it was shortly becoming nothing more than noise and gibberish, and occasionally his anguished cries were drowned by Keith kissing him keeping his face in front of Lance’s. And someone had their hand on the knife. He could feel it. Someone was pulling it out.

“Look at me, Lance. Look at me. Stay up here, look at me.”

But he couldn’t. His eyes drifted down and even as Keith tried to hold his body over Lance, he could see the knife emerge and the gush of blood that turned the bathwater bright red.

“Oh, god _what is that?_ ” wailed Hunk, from somewhere over Lance’s shoulders. Lance finally pushed Keith out of the way just in time to see a thin black body escape the knife wound, oozing out of his stomach. It wriggled a bit and then slipped over the side of his stomach and fell into the water, burying itself somewhere underneath the small of his back.

“That’s what was in Lance!?” Shrieked Keith, “Kill it!”

And in an instant, Keith had his bayard activated, and his eyes were searching the red water in the tub for the tiny alien.

“Keith, no!” Allura was shouting even as Lance could feel her healing hands on him, pouring her life energy into him once more.

“Look! There’s a second one coming!”

Lance could barely feel anything below his ribs, the pain was so great. A second tiny body slid its way out of the wound and he could feel the cavity in his body decompress itself, and his insides grow still. It was a sort of hollow aftershock, the stillness. A strange feeling of nothingness after having grown so used to the movement and nausea.

Two. He had two. All this time he’d be caring for two little babies inside of him.

“Don’t kill them,” he whispered, trying to reach for Keith’s arm, but Shiro had already grabbed Keith’s bayard, preventing him from attacking them in the tub.

“See? I told you it was a surprise!” Lance coughed, and the Paladins looked at him in utter shock.

He felt the tiny bodies squirming under him, and eventually, one of them spiralled up his arm to rest on his chest. It was about a foot long and had short little legs and webbed feet. And when it coiled itself into a little spiral shape on top of Lance’s chest, it peeked open its singular eye, blinking at him. Blue. Its eye was blue. Its sibling joined it, crawling up onto Lance’s chest, and spiraling itself into a little ball around its twin, blinking into the bright lights of Allura’s bathroom.

“Hello, babies,” said Lance, feeling weak and sleepy. Allura was reaching into the water, and he could feel her healing touch surge through him, closing the wound that the knife had left.

Everything was becoming hazy, and Keith’s face was fading in and out of focus in front of Lance. He was saying words, but Lance couldn’t comprehend them. His eyes fell from Keith kneeling over him to the red bathwater and the two children of the swamp monster next to him.

“Look, Keith,” Lance smiled down at the two creatures curled up and asleep on his chest in the water, “I’m not dying... I’m a daddy!”

  
And Lance fell back against the edge of the tub, his vision swimming and blackness overtaking him once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That song Hunk was singing was [On the Edge of a Cliff by The Streets](https://youtu.be/XWuOgDAEqss)


	14. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREPARE FOR THE ART  
> I'm uploading the chapter first, and then I have a smattering of drawings to be added in a few hours as I finish and upload them. Check back later for drawings of lil' monsters
> 
> But first, this art: 
> 
> I commissioned a piece by the very talented Kelsey Wooley of Lance's nightmare
> 
> <http://artofkelseywooley.tumblr.com/post/155396459710/my-last-commission-for-2016d-this-was-a>
> 
> And then to my surprise, Wereah did this piece of Lance's petty footrub and I am just in love!
> 
> <https://headspaceartjournal.tumblr.com/post/155742079229/i-dont-ca-keith-stopped-himself-suddenly-his>
> 
> Justgaala drew this GORGEOUS illustration from the cathedral scene in chapter 11
> 
> <http://justgaala.tumblr.com/post/155991907791/illustration-for-infection>
> 
>  
> 
> Please go check out their blogs and their art! They are so talented!

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

* * *

 

When Lance awoke, he awoke slowly; gently drifting into awareness of himself his body. He could faintly recall an instruction to rest and wisps of leathery skin brushing against his body and nothing more.

He almost didn’t recognize that he was awake at first, because nothing hurt. He was warm and he was dry and he was comfortable. His head was cushioned, and there was a heavy weight beside him, leaning against him. He was lying in a bed with Keith.

The babies!

Lance’s body jolted, and Keith yawned and stretched beside him, mumbling and running his hand up Lance’s chest.

“You’re awake now?”

“Where are they?” asked Lance in a quiet panic.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, gently pressing Lance back down onto the bed even as he weakly tried to push himself up, “You’re on a lot of drugs right now.”

That explained a few things. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t feel his toes.

“And if you’re talking about those things that came out of you,” Keith added with barely hidden disgust, “They’re sitting in a tank in Allura’s bathroom. After you passed out, we took you up to your room and put you in bed to rest.”

Lance let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring up at the alcove of his bedroom. He didn’t like the idea of being away from the newborns while they were so young and weak and vulnerable. But, he thought, they were born and they had water. They would be safe and wouldn’t suffocate. Keith kissed his cheek.

“And you’re making sure I’m ok?” Lance smiled as Keith buried his face into Lance’s collar.

“I didn’t have any other job to do, and I didn’t want to leave you alone, so, yes. I’m making sure you don’t have any more nightmares or die in your sleep,” said Keith, nuzzling his head down into Lance’s body.

Lance allowed himself to relish in the feeling of Keith, warm and secure  and heavy against his body. He felt a wave of relief. He’d survived. He’d lived through everything. There was no great enemy to be defeated or imminent death awaiting him. Only life, and hope.

He was so glad to be alive and still have Keith and his Paladin family that Lance suddenly found himself bubbling with a giddy excitement. They had so much time together! He and Keith could train together every day and sleep together every night! They could visit new worlds, and defeat the Galra and find their way back to Earth! Lance found his head swimming with new ideas and new possibilities until his eyelids grew heavy once again.

It was strange, the stillness in his body. Nothing was moving inside of him. Nothing was making him nauseous or cramped. It was like stepping off of a rocking boat and onto dry land. He felt whole again, settled in the sheets next to Keith. Lance slid his hand up, over the area of his abdomen where the knife had once been. It was smooth and whole, with perhaps a hint of a scar. He’d look later. It didn’t matter much to him. He was alive.

“So what are you going to do with those parasites that came out of you?” asked Keith, and Lance felt a twinge of anger at the term. Though, technically, he _was_ right. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the promise he’d made to the monster, but Lance felt protective of those two little beings he’d given birth to.

“They’re not parasites, Keith, they’re babies,” said Lance, trying to sound like he had more confidence than he did, “And I’m going to raise them.”

Keith lifted himself off of Lance and looked deeply into his eyes, obviously checking for any lingering delirium.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! You nearly died!”

“Nope,” said Lance with heavy finality, “I made a promise to that monster. We killed it, y’know. We owe it to them.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance.

“This... isn’t a Catholic thing, is it?”

“No,” Lance shrugged, “I just… I dunno. It just feels right.”

Keith settled himself back down beside Lance, and Lance wrapped Keith’s arm back over his chest.

“So… what exactly was that monster?” Keith mumbled into the blankets, “And why the sudden change? I thought you hated it”

“I’m still not entirely sure,” said Lance, thinking back to his feverish nightmare on the main bridge. It felt so long ago and so far away, but he couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours by now.

Everything he’d gathered from it using Allura’s body to speak was still a jumbled, confusing mess in his mind.

“All I know is that it, well, _they_ , are very old. And very angry. And when we killed it back on the swamp planet, it stuck its babies and its memories inside of me. To pass on.”

He felt Keith tense up beside him.

“So, wait, the monster inside your head is real?”

“In a way, kinda,” Lance said as he pulled Keith a bit closer, and Keith shifted his weight accordingly, “When I was dreaming, Allura used her psychic alien magic whatever to connect with my mind and enter my dream with me. She saw the monster there. She said that the monster we killed left behind some kind of biological memories inside my brain.”

“Like Sendak or King Alfor in the computer?” Keith offered.

“Yeah. But it was kinda fucked up and incompatible with my human brain, so that’s why I kept having nightmares and hallucinations. Turns out the monster wasn’t really trying to kill me. It was kinda trying to tell me how to take care of the babies, but… I had so much going on in my life, it just got all mixed up...”

Keith nodded quietly, and Lance ran his fingers through his dark hair.

“But you said it kept strangling you to death in your dreams.”

“Yeah, that thing is just… really petty.”

He stayed quiet for a while, thinking of the months of agony he and the monster had gone through; fighting, struggling, and finally able to communicate. Lance was sure there was a lesson in there somewhere about relationships and communication, but he was on a lot of drugs in that moment, and Keith’s hair looked really shiny and nice.

“God, I’m glad we have so much time,” he sighed, kissing the crown of Keith’s head, “We have so much time together, dude.”

“I know,” said Keith, squeezing Lance gently.

“And I just wanted to say,” added Lance.

“Hmm?” Keith looked up at him.

“That I literally _did_ have an alien zombie infection that was taking over my brain, and I was totally justified in biting your hand that one time!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

Lance burst into fits of giggles as Keith gently pretended to punch him.

“I still love you, though,” whispered Lance.

Keith blushed, and kissed him, and Lance suspected it was more to prevent him from saying something incredibly dumb.

“Hey, Keith?” he said, breaking away at last.

“Yeah?”

“Want to be a dad with me?”

“Oh.”

Lance watched as Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, and his breath hitched in his throat waiting for Keith’s response.

“What?”

“Actually, I didn’t think you’d ask,” said Keith, “I just kinda assumed I would be. We’re together, y’know, and as much as I’m utterly horrified by the fact that you just spit out two giant alien worms out of your guts… I still want to be with you, and do whatever it is that you do.”

Keith was blushing madly, and Lance pulled him close, feeling their hearts beating in time, and basking in his thoughts for the future. This would be incredibly hard work. And… Maybe it’d be nice to have some backup when he needed it. Like a bad cop. Or maybe he had no idea how to raise aliens. Lance shook his head and closed his eyes. He’d deal with it all later.

“I should warn you though,” said Keith into Lance’s ear, “I have zero experience with parenting alien eyeball-lizard-snakes.”

Lance grinned and Squeezed Keith, planting kisses all over his face.

“Me neither. But I have millions of years of memories to access if I need help. This should be fun.”

“You’re really high right now, Lance.”

 

* * *

**One Day Later**

* * *

 

 “This is so _weird,_ ” moaned Keith, “I’m not sure I can watch.”

Lance was sitting in Allura’s bathtub in his boxer shorts, as the tiny alien creatures slithered and swam around his legs in the shallow water. He’d learned within a few minutes of getting into the tub that his babies were hungry. And they drank blood.

The larger one immediately flared the tiny flower of tentacles around its head and latched into Lance’s ankle. He felt a piercing jab, and then nothing at all, as the creature numbed the area around his foot and calmly fed upon his blood. Its twin was a little slower, and Lance helped it along, guiding its slender, slippery body with his hands, and finding it an easy vein to feed upon.

Keith looked down upon the scene with mild horror.

“Get used to it, buddy. You’re gonna have to feed them when I can’t,” said Lance, tenderly stroking the length of their pulsing bodies as they fed.

“No. Absolutely not,” said Keith, crossing his arms and shaking his head, “Not in the deal.”

Lance stared Keith dead in the eyes.

“I named one of them after you.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, betraying his amusement.

“You have names now?”

“Yeah,” grinned Lance, “I’m calling them Lance Jr and Keithette.”

Keith stared down at the little black worms parasitically attached to Lance's ankles. They had no identifying marks beyond the fact that one was slightly longer than the other, and a little more energetic

“Keithette is a girl? How do you know?” asked Keith, with hesitant curiosity.

“Mother’s instinct,” Lance replied, patting the larger, stronger child as it happily drained his blood.

“This is _so_ weird,” said Keith, shaking his head.

 

* * *

**Two Days Later**

* * *

 

 “I don’t know what to tell you, Lance,” said Coran, shrugging helplessly, “I read your short form summary every time. It always came back as more or less completely healthy.”

“Yeah,” said Pidge, peering at the data spread across the medical bay screens, “I don’t get it. Why didn’t it tell us that Lance had two giant parasitic worms feeding off of his liver for five months?”

Coran dragged the floating window to become much larger. Lance's longform medical scan results went on for miles. Coran kept flicking and flicking, hundreds of thousands of paragraphs and statistics and charts whirling past at lightning speed until he got most of the way to the bottom.

He zoomed in a tiny bit further. “Oop, whoa. Naw, look. Here it is. See? Pod wasn't wrong. Here it is right here. You weren't sick. You were pregnant,” said Coran, twisting his moustache with assured finality.

“BUT I WAS MISERABLE THE WHOLE TIME!” Lance screamed, ready to break the med scanner with his foot.

Hunk grabbed Lance and held him tightly as Lance thrashed about helplessly, flinging his arms and legs in any direction that his rage dictated.

“Carrying a baby isn't a walk in the park, Lance.” Coran ruffled Lance’s hair as Lance stared daggers at him from underneath Hunk’s crushing arms, “But by all accounts of the pod, you actually had a very healthy, uncomplicated pregnancy.”

“Well,” he added, stroking his chin in consideration, “Except for that part where the little ones started eating your liver and drilling a hole in your body cavity to get out. Mostly healthy. Congratulations!”

Lance had stopped fighting, but his eye had developed an unhealthy twitch. Hunk kept on holding him in a crushing grip against his chest.

“Ok, but why wasn’t it coming up on _our_ scans?” asked Hunk.

“I think that may have been me,” said Pidge, sighing, “Slight, uh, programming error.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lance, popping his head out of Hunk’s bear-hug.

“Well, Lance is a cis dude,” said Pidge, blushing and adjusting her glasses, “It, uh, well, when I made his profile, I didn’t include that possibility in the scan check program’s search. And the med pod's results didn’t come up as parasite. It came up as pregnancy. So it kept saying you weren't sick.”

“But the information was RIGHT THERE!”

“Lance, that is _miles_ of medical data!” she spat back, “I wasn’t going to read it all! I thought I had it all figured out! I had a program that read it _for_ me!”

Lance settled deeply down into Hunks arms until his eyes were barely visible slits.

“I’m going to murder you, Pidge.”

“I’M FOURTEEN LANCE, I’M NOT A FUCKING DOCTOR. GO PLAY WITH YOUR GROSS WORM BABIES.”

“ _FINE,_ MAYBE I _WILL._ ”

 

* * *

**Three Days Later**

* * *

 

“I just noticed something,” said Keith.

Lance looked up from the tank where he was swirling his hand around, teasing and playing chase with the worms as they happily slithered between his fingers and swam through the hole he made with his thumb.

Keith was watching him carefully, his hand hovering hesitantly over the tank, obviously afraid to get bitten even though Lance promised that they’d already been fed.

“Yeah?”

Keith wasn’t moving. His gaze shifted between the baby worms in the tank and Lance. Lance decided that slightly more drastic measures needed to be taken. He brought his hand up, out of the tank and flicked the water away. The worms splashed happily at the surface, inviting him back down to play. Lance gently grabbed Keith’s hand and lowered it into the cool water, and for the first time, Keith felt the smooth skin and beating hearts of the tiny creatures Lance had carried inside of him. He was stunned with amazement.

Keithette gently explored his wrist with her tiny legs, grabbing onto him and crawling up the length of his arm. Lance Jr swam under the tips of his fingers, wanting to be tickled.

Keith was smiling now, as he got used to the feeling of slithering bodies and cool water. He laughed as one swam to the surface and spat a stream of water in his face. Slowly, over time, Lance knew that living with them would become less and less strange.

“What did you say?” he asked, remembering that Keith had spoke earlier.

“Oh,” said Keith, looking through the glass at the two babies staring back at him with deep blue irises, “They, um, they have your eyes.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m their daddy, Keith!”

 

* * *

**One Week Later**

* * *

 

“Hey, Lance?”

Pidge poked her head around the corner, and Lance looked up at her from the common room couch.

“We- what’s with the book?”

Lance carefully placed a bookmark in the page and closed the small blue book in his hands.

“It’s a journal,” he replied, “Shiro gave me the idea when I was having nightmares. It actually helped me organize my thoughts. Now I just use is to keep track of my kids. Like, what they do and how they’re growing.”

“It’s _super_ weird the way you call them your kids.”

“Yep. Heard it all before, Pidge,” said Lance, going back to his book, “Whatta ya want?”

“Well, actually…”

“-We have a bit of a present for you!” Hunk cut her off as he poked his head through, grinning in the doorway. Together they motioned for him to follow them out of the common room.

Down the hall and into the hanger they led him, Pidge dragging from the front and Hunk pushing from behind, suppressing giggles all the while. Lance was curious, and also mildly suspicious. It certainly wasn’t his birthday...

“There it is, buddy! Your present!”

It was, effectively, a pile of junk. But it was a pile of junk that had been built to look distinctly like one of the healing pods in the medical bay, standing upright and alone, with a plastic sheet spread underneath it.

“We cobbled together a sort-of replica of the med-pod out of old worn out parts," Said Hunk.

"And a few 3D-printed ones!” added Pidge.

They certainly did. It looked like a haphazard do-it-yourself medical pod, sitting in the middle of the lion hangar.

“How is this a present?” Lance asked, trying to suppress his sneer as his face reflexively winced at the triggering pod in front of him. The machine had brought him nothing but false hope and pain for months.

Hunk dug behind a rolling cart of tools and parts.

“And here, Lance, is your tool of destruction,” He said, handing Lance an object that looked like the Altean version of a baseball bat.

Oh.

Oh, _yes._

Lance erupted in pure joy, grabbing the heavy metal bat and running it through his hands. He took a few, slow test swings as his heart began pumping in his chest. He was practically salivating with excitement.

“Goggles!” said Pidge, “Safety first!”

Lance happily slipped the green-tinted goggles over his head.

“Smile for the camera!” said Hunk, holding up Pidge’s tablet to take a commemorative photo.

“And lastly,” said Pidge.

“Have fun!” they both cheered in unison.

The first swing shattered the sliding glass door. It felt euphoric.

Lance hacked and thrust and whacked away, denting and smashing the pod as hard as he could.

“You stupid piece of shit!” he screamed.

“I WAS!”

He smashed the back power couplings.

“PREGNANT!”

One swing and the input pad on the front was completely broken and dangling by a few wires.

“THE WHOLE TIME!”

Lance kept battering the pod for the better part of an hour, his rage sustaining an incredible stamina for destruction as Hunk stood by and cheered and Pidge recorded a few videos.

“And you couldn't tell! The entire time!” Lance wheezed, finally out of breath.

The fake pod was little more than a pile of mechanical rubble after Lance was done with it. Broken glass and metallic parts lay strewn across the plastic tarp below him and Lance was leaning heavily on his bat, a look of grand satisfaction upon his face.

“I was miserable for _months!_ ” he sighed, peeling off the green tinted goggles and wiping the sweat from his brow.

But it was over now. He didn’t need the pod. He’d made it out alive on his own. Lance lay the bat down on the floor and went over to sweep his friends into a tight hug.

 

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

* * *

 

Lance pushed his bowl away from him and stood up from the table.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go breastfeed my kids.”

“Ugh,” Pidge groaned, “Lance, please stop calling it “breastfeeding” when you let those gross alien things suck blood out of your ankles while you read a book.”

Lance turned on her, pointing his spoon in her face.

“Well where else are they supposed to suck it? And don’t talk shit about my little anklebiters, Pidge!”

“Ha-ha!” Hunk snorted, “Lance said _‘suck It’_!”

 

* * *

**One Month Later**

* * *

 

“Look, they’re climbing out of the tank!” gasped Keith, watching with intense wonder as the two worms worked their tiny clawed feet on the edge of the glass tank, pulling themselves up and out of the water, blinking their blue eyes into the light and air of Allura’s bathroom.

“I know, I’ve been watching them!” squealed Lance, “My little tadpoles are ready to walk around in the air!”

“Weird,” Keith breathed, leaning his chin onto the back of Lance’s shoulder, and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

They watched the little worms balance themselves on the edge of the tank, suckered feet holding them firm, and both of them eyeing Lance as water dripped off of their bodies. With a final squirt from each creature, they expelled the last of the water out of their lungs and shook themselves off.

They both stared at Lance, and Lance was overcome with joy, bouncing on his heels and shaking off Keith from behind him.

Then the worms started... squeaking.

"Oh, my god, they're talking! they're talking to us, Keith!"

The babies chirped and trilled as they crawled along the edge of the tank, reaching their long necks out towards Lance, hesitant to actually jump the distance from the tank to their father's arms.

“Oh, they wanna be with me!" Lance was nearly crying with excitement, "I’m gonna take them all over the castle and let them look around!”

Lance gently scooped up the twin worms as their bright blue eyes flickered about, taking in the new sights around them. He placed them on his shoulders and they easily wrapped themselves casually around his neck, resting behind the hood of his jacket.

“Ok, babies! First up, I’m taking you to meet Blue!”

* * *

**Two Months Later**

* * *

 

“I can’t do it. _I can’t do it!_ I just can’t-”

“Hold on, Lance. Slow down.”

“I’m _so tired-_ It... It was a stupid idea when I thought I was dying. I just wanted everything to work out, but... But they’re not human! I have no idea what I’m doing! I’m in fucking space! Everything is cold and wrong and I miss my mom and I’m _so tired_ all the time! And they’re always hungry or fighting and I can’t get any sleep. I’m supposed to be saving the galaxy, but I have to take care of them and I- _I can’t sleep!_ I just… I can’t do it. I can’t keep doing it.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t do it.”

“I can help.”

“It’s too much for anyone! And there’s _two_ of them! And when I finally have one under control the other is... _missing_ or getting into shit! I can't feel calm. I’m panicking all the time!”

“It’s not too much for both of us. The rest of us can help. Come on. Let’s get you some food. You’ve lost a lot of blood lately. If you show me how, I’ll help you feed them.”

“Oh, god. Please. Yes. Please.”

“We’ll figure this out, Lance. We always have up until now.”

“I’m just so _worried_ about _everything, all the time._ And it’s only gonna get worse as they get bigger, Keith. I can barely handle them now!”

“It’s not forever, remember? And when they’re ready, we’ll bring them back to the swamp. Let’s focus on the present: They’re hungry, and you’re spent. I’ll help you feed them.”

“It- it doesn’t hurt, like I told you. They numb the area...”

“It’s ok. Just keep breathing. And I’m glad it doesn’t hurt.”

“God, _thank you_ Keith. I love you. I love you and I owe you, like, ten more foot rubs.”

“I know. I’m keeping track.”

 

* * *

**Three Months Later**

* * *

 

“Hey, I know I just talked to you last night, but, um, I have another question already...”

Lance waded a little deeper into the water on the edge of the clearing of trees where he knew the monster was resting under the muddy brown silt. The smooth, dark surface started to ripple until a great, round eye emerged from it, rising up to stare Lance in the face.

Lance took a deep breath, feeling no fear, and continued.

“So last night, I told you they were still going at each other and rolling around on the floor and I thought they were fighting instead of playing rough, so I pulled them apart and put them in seperate rooms.”

He sighed, massaging his temples as the monster listened quietly, waiting.

“And that's when the weird crying noise started.”

Lance felt a sudden wave of apprehension. Was the monster judging him? Did it think he was a bad parent? He was doing the best he could, under the circumstances. He wished he could still hear its thoughts coming from Allura's body. The monster only blinked silently.

“Now, today I saw one of Keithette’s head tentacles is damaged. It keeps re-opening up and bleeding when she tries to spread to make her brother go away, and it’s not healing. She's just bleeding and bleeding everywhere..."

The monster continued to stare balefully at Lance.

"So... What should I do?”

Lance watched as a thin black rope rose out of the muddy water and curled gracefully towards him. He closed his eyes and opened his mind as he felt the delicate touch of the monster on his forehead. Strange visions flooded through his mind, of generations of swamp monsters living and growing and fighting and dying playing out before him. The visions continued to flicker by, one after the other, until Lance finally saw the scene he needed to see.

"Thanks," he nodded as the monster's tentacle slipped silently back underwater.

And Lance waved goodbye to the monster, turned around, and left.

 

* * *

**Four Months Later**

* * *

 

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“ _You know_ you love me.”

“I do.”

“I... Come on- what’s wrong?”

“I can’t.”

“What is it?”

“Look. I can’t… when _they’re_ watching. I need us to be alone, Lance.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure they want to sleep alone since they moved out of the tank. They’ll get lonely, Keith.”

“Ugh. I just- We’ll figure something out. But not while they’re right there, on the bed, staring at me.”

“At us.”

“Yeah…”

 

* * *

**Five Months Later**

* * *

 

“Hey.”

His voice echoed across the misty swamp as the warm water gently lapped at his thighs. Some nights he still felt a few wisps of fear and apprehension as he slipped back into the dark, viny woods and murky water. And though he had made ammends with the monster, the memories of thick black ropes and strangling and drowning still occasionally haunted him in the back of his mind.

A shining black arc rose out of the water and blinked its eye open. Another tentacle arose and offered itself to him. He grasped it, gently.

“Just wanted to let you know that they’re doing ok so far. Getting pretty big, actually. It’s hard to carry both of them at once and they still… Y’know, they still wanna climb all over my shoulders and sit there.”

He let out a small chuckle that echoed far across the dreamy landscape.

“It’s funny, actually. It’s like they don’t want to grow up…”

The monster blinked at him and the wet tentacle gently stroked his cheek.

“I think they get that from their dad.”

He pulled the tentacle away and held it in his hands again.

“Yeah. So. I just wanted to say. It’s going pretty good. They stopped drinking blood, thank god. I was getting pretty anemic. And… Yeah. Hopefully you’re not too lonely just sitting out here in my brain.”

Lance looked around at the swamp in his dream. It was the same as always, misty and wooded and dark, but somehow it was no longer foreboding. It was familiar, and he came here sometimes, in his dreams, when he needed answers, or he just needed to think. The swamp was once his worst nightmare, and now... It brought him peace.

 

* * *

**Five and a Half Months Later**

* * *

 

They were all sitting in the common room playing cards and resting after a long training session.

"Hey, Lance-"

"Don't say it."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not, I promise."

"Ok, fine, what?"

“Remember when you got space-pregnant with alien tapeworms?”

“FUCK OFF, PIDGE!”

 

* * *

**Six Months Later**

* * *

 

 “Lando Calrissian Junior, get _out_ of the first aid cabinet!”

A giant blue eye turned towards Lance, rimmed with that mischievous disobedience he’d come to know after one too many incidents of leaving his child unattended. The little alien lowered its front paws from the ledge of the first aid cabinet in Lance’s ship and slowly backed away, but Lance wasn’t going to turn back around so soon.

He’d learned, by now, that immediate compliance was not to be trusted. He waited, watching, as his son slowly slunk away to the back of the cabin in his Lion and forcefully lay himself down on the mat, staring at Lance with unblinking derision.

“And _stay there_ until we get back to the castle. I don’t want any more trouble from you.”

 

* * *

**Seven Months Later**

* * *

 

“Lance, they need to stop sleeping on the bed. They’re getting too big,” Keith grunted as he tried to flex his leg straight, resulting in a harsh growl from one of the heavy bodies piled at the end of the bed.

“Nah! There’s room for everyone!” said Lance, stretching his arms over his head and pulling Keith closer to him. Even with a queen-sized mattress, the two aliens were still growing larger and heavier each day. Keith kept asking what their adult size was going to be. Lance didn’t think it was an issue.

The kids were curled up in their donut spirals at Lance and Keith’s feet, stubby legs tucked under them, but at the sound of Keith’s voice, they uncoiled and raised their heads expectantly at their fathers.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Lance cooed, and Keithette closed her eye, rubbing her head affectionately against his leg.

 

* * *

**Eight Months Later**

* * *

 

“Keith! Get in here! The hangar! Please! I need you!”

Lance was screaming into the wall com near the hangar door, frantically looking over his shoulder towards the crumpled black shape on the ground by his Lion.

“He’s sick, he’s sick!”

“What? Lance, slow down,” Keith’s voice came back through the comm.

“I finally found him. He’s lying underneath Blue. He- he got into the coolant canister! Please, Allura! Keith! I need help!”

“I’m on my way, Lance,” was Allura’s quick reply and he could hear her footsteps running before her earring communicators shut off.

Lance grabbed the portable comm unit and dashed back towards the Blue Lion, skidding to a halt in front of Lance Jr who was lying nearly motionless on the cold metallic floor. He sank to his knees, trying to shake the limp body awake.

“Buddy. Come on. Wake up, please! Oh, god, I never should have- ALLURA! Quick! He's barely breathing!" 

"Stay calm, Lance!" said Allura through the comm, her words short with exertion. She was running as fast as she could.

"-I don’t know how to make him better!”

Lance was hurriedly looking around for a way to help, but all he could see was the empty metal cannister, bitten through, and the pool of greenish liquid machine coolant smeared everywhere.

“Oh, god, he’s shivering. Lance, please. You’re gonna be ok. I'm- I'm gonna...”

Lance was sobbing, holding the lethargic beast’s heavy head under his arms. A trickle of blood was leaking from its unfocused eye.

“He’s poisoned! Oh god, I don’t know what to do! I don’t have a memory for this!”

Lance Junior shuddered in his grasp and his body started convulsing. His tail spasmed and his toes twitched as the monster roiled in pain. A white foam stained with blood was forming around his eyelid.

“Please! Somebody help!”

Lance was crying hysterically and holding his child tightly as Lance Junior kicked his legs forcefully, suddenly.

And then, he was still.

 

* * *

**Eight Months and Two Days Later**

* * *

 

“Hey lil’ guy.”

A large, blue eye slowly blinked open, and Lance carefully wiped the dry, crusty weeping away from its lid.

“You gave me a huge scare there.”

The eye closed once again as the head sought out his warm hand, ushering him to stroke it. Lance’s affection was always generous and unconditional, but this time, he poured all of his worry and his love into every caress of the soft, leathery black skin. His son gave a small croon of approval and Lance settled himself down beside the soft bed they’d built for him in medical bay.

“And you know what the solution was?” Lance softly whispered.

The little monster trilled in response.

“We had to get you rip-roaring drunk, buddy. We found all the alcohol in the castle and gotcha full of nunvill and old Altean brandy.”

He kept stroking Lance Jr, his hand moving from the top of his head, down the length of his body, where Lance gently traced his fingers down his front legs and rubbed the bottoms of his feet. Lance Jr flexed his toes and yelped in pain, not yet ready for any excessive movement.

“Shh, stay still. It’s ok. You’re gonna feel rough for a few more days. We had to pump your stomachs and make sure all that coolant fluid was gone. I’m sorry, buddy. I know. It hurts. Just stay here and rest, and you’ll be better in no time. I promise.”

The eye slowly blinked itself shut, as Lance Junior fell asleep the the gentle and reassuring sound of Lance’s voice.

“I won’t let anything like that happen ever again," he said, kissing his child, "I promise.”

 

* * *

**Ten Months Later**

* * *

 

The castle had been infiltrated. The galra ops unit was small but effective. Allura, Shiro and Hunk were trapped on the main bridge while Pidge was climbing through the air ducts trying to reach the hangar to get to her lion.

Keith and Coran were doing their best to hold their own in the main hall outside the bridge, but they were quickly losing ground in the firefight, and Lance found himself suddenly surrounded.

He was halfway down the hall towards the main bridge on his way to help Keith and Coran, but Lance was flanked on both sides by Galra soldiers. And they were closing in.

“Look at this one. He’s all alone,” taunted the sneering soldier off to Lance’s left side.

They were pressing him into a corner, guns raised in a circle around him. Lance’s eyes flickered down the hallways, to the black shadows at each end.

“Why’s he smiling?” asked the big one, “He’s about to die. You got a deathwish, human?”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh a little, his wicked grin spread across his face.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he said, back against the wall as the tips of guns closed in around him, “You said I was alone. I’m not.”

“I don’t see anybody else around.”

“And that’s your problem,” shrugged Lance, casually, “Because as long as I have a family, I’m never alone.”

The galra soldiers were not prepared for two dark, monstrous shapes the size of horses barreling down the hallway on lizard-like feet, screeching and spitting at them, tentacles flared and mouths open wide in deadly fury.

Keithette tackled two soldiers at once, crushing the first under her momentum and slamming the other with her tail. Lance Jr flared his head flower and spat acid at the panicking soldiers, whipping and grabbing their guns out of their arms.

In the confusion, Lance activated his bayard and shot the two remaining soldiers point-blank, killing them.

In mere seconds, the whole squadron lay dead or unconscious at their feet, and Keithette was enjoying slowly ripping off a dead Galra’s arm and eating it.

“Snack later, baby. We need to go find daddy and the rest of them.”

 

 

* * *

**One Year later**

* * *

 

“Hold on, Allura. I’m not- just give me a moment.”

Allura nodded and stepped back as Lance held the two grown beings in his arms, eyes shut tight and they twined their dark tentacles around his body and each other. Even when they were the size of horses they were still gentle and affectionate.

Lance didn’t know what it would feel like to remove the seed of memory from his mind. Allura had promised him that it would be quick and painless. Like waking up from a vivid daydream, but not being able to remember what happened in it.

He stood before his two children, already a year into their lives, on the edge of the swamplands of their home planet. This was their home. This was where they truly belonged. They would be happy here, and they would inherit the legacy of their ancestors.

Lance refused to admit to himself how much he would miss them. They’d be a part of him, always. They’d changed his life forever.

He leaned back, and was released from their grasp, and he turned slowly towards Allura standing next to him.

“I’m ready.”

She took her hands and placed them delicately on his temples as the black tentacles wove around his head and body from behind. She closed her eyes in concentration and Lance could feel himself losing touch with immediate reality. He was swimming through endless ages of memories, lost in the river of life as generations of the swamp monsters came and went, flowing out of his mind and into his children.

And then it was over.

He tried to think back to the swamp, but lance could barely recall a few wisps mist and the smell of wet grass and nothing more. The memories were gone.

His children bowed their heads, now wise and fully adult versions of their species, thanking Allura.

Lance turned back to his babies once more. He had no more words to say. They stood before him, proud and healthy, ready to continue their lives without him. Lance felt many things in that moment. But all of it could be summed up, simply, as love.

His children turned away from him and he gently gripped their long tentacles as they slipped through his hand and they walked quietly, one after the other, into the misty swamp.

 

* * *

**Two years later**

* * *

 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It just feels weird without them. You know?”

“Yeah, _kinda…_ ”

“...Empty.”

“Empty.”

 

* * *

**Three Years Later**

* * *

 

“With commander Holt’s intelligence, we should be able to form an effective plan of attack against the last few Galra strongholds. Paladins, we have a real chance at finishing this war for good. I cannot say how proud I am of all of you.”

Allura stood around the command table, holograms of battle plans floating around them. This was it. This was the final push. Zarkon was at his most desperate and dangerous, now, but Lance and the paladins were no longer alone.

“With the help from the rebels, we can split our forces and launch our assault against the supply outposts, cutting off the resources for the central station and Zarkon’s last few loyalist holdouts.”

This was it. They could finally end the war.

 

* * *

**Five Years Later**

* * *

 

“Hey Lance, wanna try this pasta I made with the sauce those interplanetary merchants gave us? Yo, what’s with the book? Oh, wait- is that your old book from back when your kids were little baby worms?”

“Yep.”

“Brings back memories, huh?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

**Ten years later**

* * *

 

“You’re sure this is where they live?”

“It’s been a few years, Keith. The landscape has changed, and I don’t know, maybe they moved to some better real estate by now.”

“So you have no idea where they are on an entire planet.”

“No. I have… a feeling. “Mother’s instinct,” y’know?”

Lance began their descent towards the swamp planet.

“I wonder how much they’ve grown,” Lance muttered as he sought out a clearing large enough to land in.

They put down in the Blue Lion on a small raised mound in the soggy marshlands. Nothing had really changed, save for a decade of new growth of swamp trees and creeping vines.

But Lance could feel it. The aching tug. In fact, he could feel it even as he entered the atmosphere of the planet, but he didn’t think it would be so powerful until they landed. Now, however, he knew. They were calling.

Just like ten years ago, Keith sighed and hacked away blindly at the endless vines with his bayard as Lance gave him vague directions, doubling back a couple times much to Keith's frustration.

Lance had learned over the years that there were no diminishing returns on kisses, and he dearly rewarded Keith for his enduring patience. Plus, he was cute when he was sweaty.

A few hours in, and Lance’s mind was practically singing with the call. They waded through the water that reached their thighs and brushed aside the occasional falling crab and then, around a grove of dense trees, they were there.

the brown muddy water of the circular grove began churning and stirring, and a black ropey tentacle rose out of the water, it extended forward and Lance took it, allowing it to wrap itself several times around his arm and squeeze him tightly.

Then another. And four more black ropes burst out of the water, grasping lance, wrapping their length around his body, squeezing him until he couldn’t move. They picked him up off, his feet, and then crashed him down into the water.

Keith shrieked and his bayard flashed and activated, but Lance shouted through the watery commotion.

“No! Keith, don’t!”

The churning and sloshing subsided and Lance was gently released by the loosening tentacles. He picked himself up, wet and muddy but grinning all the while.

“I’m back, babies! Did you miss me? How you been doing?”

With that, the water bubbled and parted, and an enormous black body arose out of the brown silt, its ocean-blue eye staring at the two of them, its flower flaring, open and pink. The creature was enormous, now, larger than the two of his children combined, and as it picked itself up, out of the water, lance saw its black tentacles reach far and wide and deep into the swampland. They’d grown up.

“They fused into one!” he shouted, bursting with joy and sloshing through the water to hug the giant neck of the combined body of his twins. The monster curled its neck to wrap around him in a tender hug, while Keith watched from a distance, unsure of how to react.

“We should give them a new name,” said Lance, stroking the areas he knew his children aways liked.

“Oh yeah?”

“Klance!” Lance gasped, full of unbridled joy.

“That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard,” said Keith, “I love it.”

 

* * *

**Fifteen Years Later**

* * *

 

“Hey Lance!”

“Yeah?”

“Remember that time back when we first became paladins and you got space-pregnant with alien tapeworms?”

“...Yeah...”

 

* * *

**Twenty Years Later**

* * *

 

“Daddy, what are you thinking about?”

Lance turned his head, surprised at the sound of the young girl’s voice.

“Dad said you were out here on the beach thinking. _And we both know what trouble comes from that!_ ” The girl giggled as her fluffy purple ears lay flat against her head. Lance smiled and ruffled the tiny child’s hair, stroking his fingers behind her ears and cupping her chin.

“Did he say that?”

“Yes!” She laughed, sitting down beside him in the bright pink crystalline sand that covered the beaches of this watery planet. Together they sat for a moment, staring out at the hazy sunset over the greenish ocean in the distance. Her yellow dress fluttered in the light breeze as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a little squeeze.

“Well,” said Lance, “I’m just thinking back to a time before you came along. I was very young and very adventurous and full of silly ideas.”

“So not at all like now?” She grinned, holding his large hand in both of her tiny ones.

“Nope, not at all. And I landed on this one planet that was a big, big swamp. And afterwards, I became very sick.”

“Oh, no!” she gasped, “Did you die?”

Lance laughed, grabbing her and pulling her into his lap to tickle.

“I really almost did. But from that time I was sick, I had two kids that came before you, Korra-Marie.”

The child’s glowing amber eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open.

“Really? How come I never got to meet them?”

Lance sighed, and he thought for a long while before he spoke, gazing out towards the last rays of sunlight glittering on the ocean.

“Well, they weren’t human, or galra, and they didn’t want to live in the castle like we do. They wanted to live back on their home planet, in their swamp.”

“Oh. So you put them back so they could be happy?”

“Yep,” he nodded, rocking his child in his lap, “I put them back.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yes. All the time. Do you think they miss us?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“Well, not me, since they never met me!”

“What are you two doing out here?” the low voice came from over Lance’s shoulder, smooth and fine and beloved enough to tug at Lance’s heart with every word.

“Dad!” Korra spring up from Lance’s lap, waving Keith over towards them, “Come join us! Daddy was telling me that you had kids before me!”

Keith chuckled and sat beside Lance in the pink sand as Korra spread her little body over both of their laps, soaking up the attention.

“Did you love your other kids more than me?” she asked, looking up at them as pink sand got all over her dress and fur. Lance looked at Keith out of the corner of his eye and then smiled down at their beautiful daughter.

“Korra-Marie Amidala Kogane,” he said, “No one could ever love anyone as much as your dads love you.”

Keith sighed, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the star-speckled twilight.

“Oh, that time. We were so young, Lance. How did we stay alive?”

“Don’t look at me,” Lance grinned.

“I think it made us better parents in the end,” said Keith, as Korra crawled over and curled up in his lap.

“It really did.”

Keith leaned over towards Lance and motioned to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. Lance bent over and perked up.

“I need to stop letting you pick the names.”

“You really do.”

 

THE END

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements
> 
> That’s it. It’s over. We’re finally done.
> 
> Thank you for reaching the end of Infection with me!
> 
> I am so glad you chose to stick with me on this wild ride. It makes me so happy to know that fans of Voltron are actually reading my work. It's amazing.
> 
> I want to thank my wonderful betas, Bgal, fairylaughing, Emmygirl, others who have endlessly pestered me to keep concentrating when I want to fuck around on tumblr.
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who has commented or left kudos on the work. Thank you!
> 
> I want to send a HUGE THANKS to the two wonderful artists, Absolem0 and Wereah who drew beautiful art of my story! You warm my heart and make me want to write so much more!
> 
> I want to thank the anon who sent me the prompt in the first place. This wasn't the fic you wanted, but it's the fic we all deserved.
> 
> If you have time, I would humbly request you to be honest and tell me what you think of my writing so far. Go ahead, I am thankful for any and all criticism.
> 
> What are the strengths of my writing? What do I do well?  
> What are the weaknesses? Where could I improve?  
> What do you think has improved from the beginning to the end?  
> What was your favourite part of the fic?  
> Least favourite?  
> I really want to grow as a writer, and I want to keep creating works that folks want to read. Season 2 is just around the corner and you can be sure I’ll be writing something new and weird and off-the-rails just like Infection.
> 
> See you in the next story!  
>  
> 
> 5557
> 
> MORE ART
> 
> <http://artofkelseywooley.tumblr.com/post/155396459710/my-last-commission-for-2016d-this-was-a>
> 
> <https://headspaceartjournal.tumblr.com/post/155742079229/i-dont-ca-keith-stopped-himself-suddenly-his>
> 
>  <http://absolem0.tumblr.com/post/153786769274/sick-small-fanart-for-lovely-yes>
> 
> <http://autisticvoltronld.tumblr.com/post/156000974772/illustration-for-infection>

**Author's Note:**

> Untagged spoiler triggers: This is a male pregnancy "mpreg" story and no one dies at the end.
> 
> Also, please go take my [Garbage Voltron Quiz.](http://autisticvoltronld.tumblr.com/post/150498089006/this-is-my-controbution-to-this-fandom-ill-see)


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